


Coran's Guide to the Care and Keeping of Earthling Humans

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Comedy, Cultural Differences, Fluff, Fun with languages, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Kaltenecker returns!, Mild Injury, Platonic Cuddling, Stitches, a space cat gets involved at the end, based on those humans are weird posts around tumblr, little bit of langst in one of the chapters, mountain climbing, some swearing in one of the chapters, the Alteans try to understand their Earthling humans, underage drinking in one of the chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2018-11-05 10:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 44,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11011584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It turns out there a fair number of cultural differences between Alteans and humans.  Confusion and hilarity ensues.(Based on some of those "humans are weird" or "take a human" posts I've seen floating around tumblr)





	1. Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna put this up as complete at 7 chapters but if I get more ideas I may add more. I got these ideas from those posts around tumblr about how weird humans must be to aliens. Unfortunately I can't really point to any of them in particular because I saw the posts before I had a decent tagging system on tumblr so they are lost to the void (T-T)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involves dubious mathematics. *hides under a rock* I can count to a thousand in three languages and can't do algebra in any of them.
> 
> We know a little bit about Altean timekeeping systems, but I tried to figure out exactly how they worked compared to seconds/minutes/hours/days etc, and gave up after thirty minutes. I'd just like to send a formal apology to my high school math teacher, who would be ashamed of me. But the math isn't integral to the story so... *shrugs*
> 
> (The first chapter takes place just shortly after they got there)

“Coran, I’m worried.”  Allura crossed her arms and frowned down at the new paladins, who were once again failing to even hold their own against the training gladiator.  The two Alteans were watching from the observation deck.  

“There simply has to be an explanation.”  Coran mused.  “They seemed fine, if not inexperienced, when they first got here.”  

“But over the past twelve vargas, their performance has declined steadily.”  Allura sighed.  “Look at them; they can’t even pass the first level.  How are they going to defend the galaxy?”

Down on the training deck, the gladiator knocked Keith flat on his back.  Allura exhaled slowly through her nose, her lips set in a thin, tense line.  Coran reached for the microphone.  

“Alright, paladins, let’s take a break for now.”  He said.  The paladins all let out a collective sigh of relief, and Lance actually laid down on the ground, his arms and legs spread-eagle like an exhausted starfish.  Allura gave Coran a confused look.  He shrugged.  “It’s just a hunch, but I think I may have an idea of what the problem is.”  

The two Alteans went downstairs and joined the exhausted paladins on the training deck.  

“Gather ‘round, paladins,” Coran planted his feet and put his hands on his hips.  “We need to talk.”  

“Look, I’m sorry we aren’t doing very well,” Shiro said.  “Honestly, we’ve all been through a lot in the past day, and we’re very tired.  I’m sure that after we get some rest, we’ll be fine.”  

“That is precisely what I wanted to talk about.”  Coran said.  “Now, in the past, I dabbled in xenobiological research, but admittedly, there isn’t a lot of known data on Earth because your planet never had contact with other planets, so we’re shooting in the dark here.  You five seem to be exhibiting signs of fatigue and disorientation that you did not previously have when we first met.  Is there anything about human biology that you think could be causing this?”

“Well, the fact that we’ve all been awake for about twenty hours could have something to do with it.”  Pidge groused.  

“Yeah.  I don’t know how you guys are, but humans need to sleep for about six to eight hours a day.”  Hunk said.  

“What is an ‘hours’?”  Allura asked.  “And what is a ‘day’?”

“An hour is sixty minutes.  A day is twenty-four hours, or one rotation of the Earth.”  Lance explained, making a spinning motion with his finger.  

“How peculiar.”  Coran mused.  “Our units of measurement are different.  One hundred ticks make up a dobosh, and one hundred doboshes make up a varga.  One rotation of the planet Altea is fifty vargas.”

“So you’re saying that Alteans only need to sleep, what, once every… three Earth days?  Four?” Pidge paused and frowned in concentration, then flopped onto their back with a groan.  “I can’t do math right now.  I’m too tired.”

“If that’s true, then they’re supposed to be in the middle of their circadian rhythms right now!”  Coran turned to Allura.  

“That would certainly explain their performance.”  Allura sighed.  “Alright, paladins.  Coran and I will work out a system that accommodates both our circadian rhythms and yours.  For now, get some sleep.  Do you require anything for your resting period?”  

“Darkness, and preferably something soft to sleep on.”  Keith said, getting to his feet.  

“Of course.  Each of you has a room with a bed, marked by a plaque on the door the door matching the color of your lion.”  Allura said.  

“I’m going to sleep for ten years.”  Lance groaned, sitting up.  

“I’m afraid we can only permit you the six to eight hours Hunk mentioned before.”  Coran said.  “We do still need to prepare you for battle, you know.”  

“It’s just a figure of speech.”  Pidge yawned.  “I don’t think humans can actually sleep for that long.”      


	2. High-fives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really a big thing, but at this point they're only a day or so into their training, so they all still think Pidge is a guy

After the revelation that Alteans and humans need different amounts of sleep, Coran drew up a schedule that managed to accommodate both sides and reset the automatically dimming lights in the section of the castle where the paladins’ quarters were.  The effect was nearly immediate; the very next training session after the paladins had woken up went much smoother, and while they were still largely inexperienced as fighters, they were able to slowly improve with every day.   

“Level one, completed,” an automated voice came over the loudspeaker as the gladiator collapsed.  “Initiating level two in fifty ticks.”

“We did it!”  Hunk grinned.  

“Woooo!”  Lance let out a loud cheer and ran down the line of paladins, smacking each one’s hand when they held it out.  He continued past Shiro and skidded to a halt in front of Allura and Coran where they were standing off to the side, holding his hand up and grinning broadly.  

“Lance, I must ask that you refrain from injuring your own teammates.”  Allura frowned.  “How are you supposed to work as a team and form Voltron if you strike them like that?”

“Huh?”  Lance looked confused.  “I… didn’t?  Unless you mean that time I missed the gladiator and accidentally hit Keith, but I  _ told  _ you, that was completely an accident.”  

“No, just now.”  Coran reminded him.  “You ran around and slapped each of your teammates.  That’s very rude, you know.  You ought to treat each other with more respect.”

“What are you... ?  Oh!”  Lance realized what he was getting at.  “Are you talking about the high-fives?”  

“The… what?”  Allura asked, eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement.  

“I didn’t hit them, I just high-fived them.”  Lance said.  

“He’s right.”  Pidge said.  “Do you guys not have high-fives?”  

“High… five of what?”  Coran asked.  

“Like this,” Hunk held up his hand.  “Lance, buddy, high-five me.”  

Lance reached out and smacked their palms together, the sound making Allura and Coran flinch.  

“We do it to congratulate each other.”  Pidge explained.  “There’s also fist bumps.  Keith?”  They held out their fist, and Keith lifted his own fist, tapping their knuckles together in what Coran and Allura would have called the world’s softest punch.  It didn’t appear to hurt either of them in the slightest.  

“Is this a common human custom?”  Allura asked.  

“Pretty common, yeah,” Shiro said. 

“Why is it called a high-five?”  Coran asked.  “Do you have to do it five times?”

“It’s high because you hold your hand up, and five because of your five fingers.”  Pidge held up their hand, counting on each finger.  “One, two, three, four, five.  And up high.”  They raised their hand above their head, and Shiro tapped it lightly to demonstrate.  

“Or, if you’re Pidge, low five.”  Lance smirked.  

“Lance, I’m about to high-five you in the face.”  Pidge glared at him.  

“Now  _ that  _ would be an example of violence.  Ow!”  Lance jumped when Pidge smacked his backside with their hand.  

“And that’s called a butt-slap, most commonly seen between vehemently-straight-but-probably-a-little-bi boys on sports teams.”  Pidge explained. 

“Then what does that make  _ you _ ?”  Lance asked.

“None of your business.”  Pidge snorted.   


	3. Pet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Langst in this chapter, remedied by humor. Coran tries so hard

Things seemed to be going fine for everyone except Lance.  In the moments he didn’t have training or eating or sleeping to distract himself with, he could feel the cold, dark fingers of negativity slipping around his mind, tainting his thoughts and whispering in his ear that he would never be good enough, he was deluding himself if he believed he could defend the galaxy, his family probably hated him for leaving without saying anything, and he was worthless, worthless, worthless… 

Lance frowned and rested his chin on his drawn-up knees, looking out at the stars from where he sat on the empty observation deck.  He knew he was a good pilot, and he knew his family loved him.  The whole defending the galaxy thing was still a little up in the air, but to be fair, he probably wasn’t any worse at it than the others, as they were all about the same age and all very much out of their element here.  He  _ knew  _ this, logically, but that didn’t always stop him from feeling the way he did.   _ Try to picture your depression like a mean little child; you wouldn’t believe a child saying something silly, would you? _ he remembered his therapist saying.  A voice in the back of his mind scoffed.  

_ You’re pathetic if you think that will help _ .

_ That’s nice, now isn’t it your bedtime? _

Lance sighed heavily.  The problem was that, sure, sometimes children said your haircut was stupid or made fun of your nose and you could brush it off, but sometimes they threw rocks, and it hurt.  And right now, his depression was throwing rocks at him.

He used to be fine.  Ever since he started taking medication to help with his depression, his bad days had decreased in number and severity, even if they didn’t disappear completely.  His mamá always warned him to keep his medication on him when he travelled, not in his suitcase, ever since the disaster that was their Phoenix vacation when the airport lost the whole plane’s luggage and Lance was without his medicine for three days while they got that mess sorted out.  Since then, he was careful to keep track of his medicine when he traveled.  When he had left his room for the night back at the Galaxy Garrison to follow Pidge up onto the roof, however, he hadn’t expected that he wouldn’t return.  How was he supposed to know that an extraterrestrial pod would crash into the desert containing his idol who had been missing for a year, or that he would end up rescuing said idol with his rival, or that they would then embark on a hovercraft chase pursued by Garrison officials and end up in a shack in the middle of the desert, where they would then go on a mission to find the blue lion and pilot it into outer space?  Who could have possibly guessed that, when he left his room that day?  Suffice to say, he hadn’t been carrying his meds on him at the time, and they didn’t really have time to go back for them, so he had been forced to quit cold-turkey.  Hunk, his best friend for many years, was the only one who was aware of his depression, and he did what he could to help, whether it was giving him a much-needed hug, or keeping the rest of the paladins away from Lance when he needed some space.  It helped a bit, but Lance still wished he had that little orange pill bottle.    

“Lance!”  Coran called out, startling him out of his thoughts.  “I’ve got just the thing for you!  Whoops--!”  He grabbed at the creature that was attempting to squirm its way out of his arms.  It was about the size of a housecat, but had several writhing tentacles running along the ridge of its back, bright purple fur, and one violently-bright orange eye set right on top of its head.  There also appeared to be smoke curling out of its beak, and when it opened, Lance could see that there were two rows of razor-sharp teeth lining the inside.  

“Coran, what the quiznak is that?!”  Lance scrambled to his feet, putting some distance between the creature and himself.  

“It’s an iakoy from the planet Fejivogyrobi!”  Coran grinned broadly.  The creature in his arms let out a sound like metal scraping against a chalkboard.  “In typical Earthling fashion, I have named him ‘Spot’!”

“You…  _ what _ ?”  Lance stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“I’ve been doing some reading on Earthling humans,” Coran explained.  “Lots of spare time while you lot are having your extended resting period in your circadian rhythms, you see, so I dug out all the information I could from the castle archives.  I learned that humans often enjoy the companionship of small creatures known as ‘pets’, and many humans even require them for assistance with physical and mental conditions.  And I overheard you telling Hunk you had a condition called ‘depression’, which was one of the examples listed.  So,”  He held out the creature proudly.  “Spot here can be your -- what was the word? -- terapye pet!”

“Therapy pet?”  Lance clarified.

“Ah yes, that was it!”  Coran nodded.  “I forget that your alphabet system is much less refined than Altean.  We just have one letter for the ‘th-’ sound, you see.  Anyway!”  Coran took a step forward, holding out the creature.  “Would you like to hold him?”  As he spoke, the creature opened its beak and emitted a small stream of flames.

“Um, you know what, I think I’m good.”  Lance took a step back.  “Coran, did any of your research notes say anything about pets being… non-lethal?”

“Well, one, but the majority of them didn’t mention anything like that.” Coran paused.  “Is that… wrong?” 

“Yeah, pets don’t usually breathe fire.”  Lance said.

“Oh, he’s harmless!”  Coran said, looking at the creature fondly.  “Nothing a little spritz of dihydrogen monoxide can’t put out!”   

“Water, Coran.  You can just say water.”  Lance rubbed a hand over his face.  

“Ah yes, I forgot that humans tend to name their chemical reactions and elemental compounds.  Forgive me.”  Coran looked down at the creature.  “So… you have no interest in engaging in the practice of ‘snuggles’ with Spot?”

Lance bit back a laugh.  “Thanks for the thought, but no, I’d rather not.”  He would like to keep his eyebrows un-singed, thank you very much.

“Hm, alright then.”  Coran looked thoughtful.  “Well, we aren’t too far from his planet, so I suppose I’ll just return him.  And then, I believe I ought to make a note in the archives about ‘pets’ needing to be non-lethal.”  

“Sounds good, you do that.”  Lance took a few steps back and managed to get around the corner before he burst out laughing, muffling the sound with the palm of his hand.  Wait until he told the rest of the paladins about this…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I need therapy, lalalalala therapy..." more like "lalalalaughter therapy" am I right? (that's a super niche reference lmao sorry)


	4. Birthdays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is as short as Pidge is. My apologies. I did upload more than one chapter in a day though

“Pidge!”  Hunk came running into the room.  The green paladin looked up from their computer and found him covered with what looked like streaks of flour and gunpowder.  

“Uh, wha--”

“I tried to stop him!”  Hunk pointed at the door.  “I tried to tell him he was going too far, but he wouldn’t listen!”

Pidge stared at him, bewildered.  “What are you--”

“PIDGE!”  Coran came around the corner, carrying a tray engulfed in flames.  “I have set the sugary pastry aflame for your yearly celebration!  Quickly, Hunk, gather the others and we can chant the aging incantation!”      

“What?!”  Pidge leapt to their feet, clutching their laptop to their chest and trying to shield it from the flames.  

“I memorized the words to the incantation, but I’m afraid I don’t know the tune!” Coran said.  “I hope it is appropriate to recite it to the tune of  _ My Old Altean Home _ .”  He cleared his throat, but his words were cut off by the sudden spray of white foam aimed at the flames.  When the fire was finally put out, they found Lance standing in the doorway holding a fire extinguisher and panting, his hair in disarray.  

“Coran!  I told you,  _ non-lethal _ !”  He shouted.  

“But it isn’t a pet!”  Coran protested.  “And I’ve read that humans prepare their food before eating it by putting it on fire!”  

“Humans cook their food  _ over  _ a fire or  _ in  _ a fire, not  _ on  _ fire!”  Lance told him.  

Coran looked down at the foam-covered charred lump on the tray.  “...Can we still eat the sugary pastry while we chant the aging incantation, so that Pidge may gain another year of life?”  

“Pidge is going to get older regardless of whether or not we sing Happy Birthday.”  Hunk massaged his temples.  

“Wow, Coran, I… really don’t know what to say.”  Pidge couldn’t help but smile.  “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble just for my birthday.  I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.”  

“The cake was my idea,” Hunk said.  “I tried to explain the concept of birthdays to Coran, since I knew yours was coming up, but I guess I didn’t explain it very well before Allura called me to help fix something, and Coran got a little carried away in the kitchen without my help.”  

“Did I do it wrong?”  Coran looked around at all of them.  

“You did fine.”  Pidge patted his shoulder reassuringly.  “It’s probably the best birthday I’ve had, or at least the most exciting.”  

Coran beamed in response.


	5. Sneezing

“You, my friend, are crazy.”  Lance pointed his spork at Keith from across the dining table.  “I feel betrayed.”

“You asked me if I liked pirates or ninjas better.”  Keith frowned.  “How does me saying ninjas count as betrayal?”

Shiro sighed and reached for the small shaker jar in the center of the table.  There was a scrap of paper taped to it, with “ _ space version of pepper-allspice-y type seasoning”  _ written on it in Hunk’s blocky handwriting.  The discovery of the spice rack in the kitchen had come as a relief to all the paladins, who were growing a little tired of bland space goo at every meal.  At least with this, they could spice up the flavor.

“It’s a betrayal because I thought we would be on the same page here!”  Lance said.  “And pirates are so much cooler than ninjas!  They’ve got ships and treasure and swords--”

“Because ninjas totally don’t have swords.”  Pidge rolled their eyes.

“--and they get to live at sea and go on adventures!”  Lance finished.  “Ninjas just sneak around in the dark and kill whoever their master tells them to.”

Keith arched an eyebrow.  “Have you ever even  _ opened  _ a world history book?  Or did you just get that from anime?”

Tuning out the banter, Shiro shook the jar over his plate.  A cascade of glittery blue flakes tumbled out in a puff of peppery dust.  The dust managed to get into his nose, and Shiro sneezed quietly into the crook of his arm.  A chorus of “bless you”s went up from the rest of the paladins, who barely even glanced up.  Keith and Lance immediately returned to their pirates-vs-ninjas debate, while Pidge and Hunk brought up the suggestion that ninja-pirates would be the most badass option.

Allura and Coran exchanged a look between them.  Allura cleared her throat.  “Paladins, I’m afraid Coran and I are a bit confused.  We don’t understand the ritual that just took place.”

“A debate isn’t really a ritual.”  Pidge said.  “And I think these two just argue for fun.”  

“No, no, the debate part we understood.”  Allura said.  “Although I’m still not sure what a ‘ninja’ is, exactly.”

“We meant the bit just now, where you all suddenly bestowed a blessing on Shiro, and nearly simultaneously at that.”  Coran elaborated.  “Did you telepathically make the decision to do so?  And why?”

“Bestowed a blessing on Shiro?”  Keith looked confused.  Pidge snorted into their hand, understanding.

“Oh!”  Hunk realized what they meant.  “Shiro sneezed, so we all said ‘bless you’.  It’s a human custom, I guess.”  

“Not all human cultures.”  Shiro said.  “The Japanese side of my family doesn’t really say it.”  

“My family says  _ salud _ , which just means ‘health’.”  Lance added.  “No religious connotation.  Weird, because pretty much everyone in my family is Catholic.”  

“I feel like some of the religious connotation was lost when it became as commonplace as it is now.”  Pidge said.  “No one in my family is religious and we still say it when someone sneezes.  It’s like a reflex.”  

“I hate to interrupt, but what is a sneeze?”  Allura looked puzzled.  

“It’s like,” Lance reached for the spice shaker and quickly shook it in Keith’s face.  

“What the--?!” Keith reeled back, but it was too late.  He scrunched up his nose and then sneezed into his hand, the sound more like a squeak than a typical sneeze.  “What the hell did you do that for?!”  Keith glared at Lance.

“Oh my god, you have the  _ cutest _ sneeze!”  Lance leaned across the table and ruffled Keith’s hair.  Keith swatted his hand away and grabbed the spice shaker, tossing some in Lance’s face.  Lance’s head snapped forward and he sneezed violently and very loudly into his arm while Pidge cackled.  Allura just looked bewildered.  

“So, inhaling spices is part of the blessing ritual?”  Coran asked.  

“No, no,” Hunk chuckled.  “Sneezing is something the human body does to get rid of stuff that doesn’t belong in the nose, like dust, pollen, mucus… and in this case, spices.”  He picked up the shaker and everyone leaned away from him.  He gave them all a flat look.  “I’m not going to throw it at anyone.  That would be  _ immature _ .”  

“You wound me, friend.”  Lance put a hand to his chest in mock offense.  

“Ah, I believe I understand now.”  Coran nodded.  

“But why do you bless someone when they sneeze?”  Allura asked.  

“I think it started back in Medieval times.”  Pidge said.  “Something about people believing that when you sneezed, the devil entered your body through your nose or something.”

“But something’s  _ leaving _ your nose,” Lance said.  “How would the devil even get  _ in _ your nose, if boogers are flying  _ out _ ?”

“Well, these are the same people who burned unmarried women at the stake for supposedly being witches.  I don’t think logic was high on their list of priorities.”  Pidge pointed out.  

“I thought it had something to do with the person who says it praying that the person who sneezed wouldn’t get sick, since sneezing is a symptom of many illnesses.”  Hunk said.  

“Probably that too.”  Pidge said.  They turned to Allura.  “Basically, no one really remembers the exact reason we say it, but you’re essentially hoping that the person is healthy.”  

“It’s a… well-meaning, if not confusing, custom.”  Allura said.  

“Very interesting.”  Coran nodded in agreement.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first week in Japan I reflexively said "bless you" when a co-worker sneezed and I had to explain myself RIP me


	6. Friendly Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Platonic bonding is best bonding. 
> 
> The subject of sex comes up but only due to a misunderstanding. No one has it.

None of them could really remember who started it or when, but for some time, the paladins usually ended up in a big cuddle pile in the castle’s lounge during their evenings (well, not so much ‘evening’ as it was the time after they ate dinner and before they all went to sleep, since things like ‘days’ and ‘nights’ were a bit harder to pin down in space).  Probably half the time, they all ended up just falling asleep out there rather than getting up to go off to their individual rooms, since they were too comfortable and warm and just didn’t care to leave.  Sometimes one or more of them needed their space and that was perfectly fine, but most nights they were all together.  

One such evening, they were all laid out on a blanket that Lance had dragged from his room and spread out on the floor.  Hunk was in the center, stretched out on his back with one hand pillowing the back of his head and the other combing through Lance’s hair.  Lance had his head on Hunk’s chest and had Keith’s head on his own stomach, fingers playing with the red paladin’s hair and braiding it idly.  One of Keith’s legs was thrown over Hunk’s, the ball of his left foot touching the small of Shiro’s back on Hunk’s other side.  Pidge was leaning against Hunk, nestled into the crook where his side met his raised arm.  Their laptop was balanced on the knees of their outstretched legs, their fingers absentmindedly running through Shiro’s hair where his head was resting on their thighs, the two of them pouring over some Galra coding on Pidge’s laptop.  Everyone was comfortable, warm, and relaxed, just enjoying each other’s company quietly.  

The door to the lounge opened with a mechanical  _ whrrr _ and Coran walked in, carrying a tray of small cups filled to the brim with some sort of liquid.  He didn’t look up as he entered, goggle-covered eyes carefully trained on the tray so as not to accidentally spill anything.

“Paladins!  I’ve been analyzing the bottle of nutrient drink Pidge had in their backpack when you all left Earth, and I believe I may have successfully replicated your traditional ‘alligator-aid’ drink.  I’ve brought some samples for you to try, as well as an epipen, just in case.”  He finally looked up and stopped in his tracks, the drinks sloshing a bit with the sudden movement.  “Oh sweet Altea!  Why didn’t you warn me?!  I apologize, I didn’t mean to intrude!”  

The paladins all looked at him, confused.  

“You’re not intruding on anything, Coran,” Shiro said, rolling onto his back to look at him.  “Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, we’re just hanging out.”  Lance craned his neck to see the cups.  “Did you say you made Gatorade?”  

“Not intruding--?  But aren’t you engaging in the intimate practice of grooming?”  Coran asked, the tips of his ears turning red.  

“...No?”  Pidge tilted their head, confused.  

“The what?”  Keith asked.  Lance looked down at his own hands, which were halfway done braiding Keith’s hair into a french plait down the side of his head (since Keith refused to sit up to let him do it properly along the back of his head).  

“Oh!  Um, kind of?”  Hunk said.  “I guess?  But not really?”  

Coran stared at him.  “I’m afraid that didn’t really clear it up.”

“It’s not… it’s not a big deal or anything.”  Lance said.  “We’re just chilling.  Casual cuddling.  Friends do that.”  

“But grooming is one of the more intimate interactions between Earthling primate-based creatures!”  Coran said.  “Entire theses have been written by Altean scholars on the subject!  And I just barged in… quiznak, I should go.  Oh, do you need anything?  Nourishment or some kind of… protection?”

“Pro--?!”  Hunk sputtered, blushing.

“From what, cuddle cooties?”  Pidge asked.  

“Yes, yes, what can be done to prevent it?”  Coran asked.  

“Nothing, I just made it up.”  Pidge sighed.      

“Um, Coran, I think you might be getting cuddling and sex mixed up…” Shiro said carefully.  

Coran blinked.  “Sex?”

Hunk groaned and covered his face with his hand, hiding the blush that was taking over his face.  “We are  _ not  _ having this conversation…” 

“Team Dad, you can take this one.”  Lance reached behind him to pat Shiro on the hip.  Shiro sat up with a sigh.

“Alright, Coran, when humans -- sometimes two, sometimes… more -- love each other, or I guess sometimes they don’t need that, but, um, basically, they, uh…” Shiro faltered, but Coran jumped in.

“Oh!  You’re talking about procreation!”  He exclaimed.  

Pidge let out a yelp as Hunk grabbed them and pulled them down, hands covering the sides of their head.  “Shield your ears, my child!”

“Hunk, I’m only three months younger than you!”  Pidge wiggled out of his grip.  

“I mean, some people do it for more than just procreation, but, um, yeah, basically.”  Shiro was wondering if it was possible to actually die from embarrassment.  What a terrible thing to have written on one’s headstone:  _ died while giving the Talk™ to inquisitive alien... _

“But from what I’ve read about procreation, your positioning seems to all be off.”  Coran frowned thoughtfully.  “And I assumed there would be more… vigorous movement.”  

“Sweet Jesus in heaven help me…” Lance muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes.  Keith had pretended to fall asleep to escape the conversation, but the redness of his ears gave him away.  

Shiro rubbed his hands over his face, looking tired.  “We’re not having sex.  No one is having sex.”  He said firmly.  

“This is just innocent, good, wholesome, platonic cuddling between teammates.”  Hunk added.  “If you really want to look at it from a scientific perspective, prolonged physical contact decreases blood pressure and releases oxytocin in humans.  Babies can literally die if they aren’t touched enough, and even adult humans can have poor health if they don’t get a certain amount of interaction.”

“Fascinating…” Coran mused.  “I’ll have to add that to the database.  Perhaps Dr. Tacatorian’s theories weren’t completely unfounded after all.”  He turned to leave, then paused and looked down at the tray still in his hands.  “I’m not sure what the Earthling cuddling customs allow, but if you’re permitted to drink during this time, would you mind testing out this gator-aiding prototype?”  

“What flavor is it?”  Lance asked.  

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”  Coran admitted.  “It tasted a bit like gefsatharian fruit mixed with hocpogeti nectar.”  

“Oh boy, my favorite.”  Keith deadpanned.  

“What color is it?”  Lance pressed.

“Yellow.”

“Aw, man,” Lance made a face.  “Yellow’s the worst flavor.”  

“Yellow is a color, not a flavor.”  Keith reminded him.  

“Lemon-lime  _ is _ the best flavor.”  Pidge stuck their tongue out at Lance.  

“Nuh uh, cool blue all the way, man.”  Lance shook his head.  

“Uncultured swine.”  

“The yellow one looks like you’re drinking piss!”

“By that logic, the blue one looks like you’re drinking antifreeze.”

“Unpopular opinion,” Shiro spoke up.  “I actually don’t like Gatorade all that much.”  

Lance sat up with a squawk.  “Seriously?”

“Neither does Keith.”  Shiro added.  Lance looked personally offended.

Keith shot him a look.  “Way to throw me under the bus, Shiro.”  He reached around Lance to poke Shiro in the thigh.  “At least I don’t like Pocket Sweat.”  

“Pocari Sweat is a perfectly good drink.”  Shiro said.  

“So is water.”  Keith said.  

Coran blinked, looking around at them uncertainly.  “I apologize, I wasn’t aware that this drink would spark such disagreement among you.”  

“Don’t worry, none of these idiots are actually mad at each other.”  Pidge said, patting Lance’s head.  “This is just how they are.”    

“Humans are quite… argumentative creatures.”  Coran mused.  

“Some are,” Hunk said.  “But we’re not  _ actually  _ arguing.  We’re just teasing each other.  It’s friendly banter.”  

“Well, I suppose that must be true, because you haven’t moved from your… er, grooming positions.”  Coran said.  

“Cuddling.”  Hunk said.  “Humans call this cuddling.  And you and Allura are welcome to join in, if you want.”

Coran considered it.  “Perhaps another time.”  

“Suit yourself,” Lance finished the braid he was making down the side of Keith’s head.  He reached for Keith’s hand and pulled a hairband off his wrist, tying it around the bottom of the short braid.  “Up,”  Lance patted Keith’s shoulder.  “I gotta do the other side.”  

Keith sat up and felt the side of his head, looking confused.  Pidge snorted.  

“You look like a grumpy Pippi Longstocking.”  They told Keith, who just scowled in return.  

“I think it’s cute.”  Hunk said.  Keith grumbled, but sat still while Lance scooted closer and braided the other half of his hair.  


	7. Pet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (takes place seven years in the future)

“Paladins of Voltron, the planet of Ihsi’neuos thanks you for freeing us from the Galra forces that were blockading us.”  The tall, green-skinned alien told them.  “Without your assistance, our supplies and troops may not have lasted much longer.”

“We’re just glad we were able to get here in time.”  Shiro said, smiling tightly.  The battle with the Galra fleet had been hard and long, and they had not come out of it completely unscathed.  Keith had a gash across his temple that would probably need stitches, as it was already bleeding through the bandage he had taped over it.  Hunk was fine, aside from the fact that his face was covered in blood from when he smacked his nose on his dashboard when his lion was struck.  Pidge’s glasses had broken and the twisted metal had scraped up the side of their face, leaving a crooked hook of a wound that curled around their temple and down their cheekbone.  Lance was pretty sure he had a concussion.  Shiro himself suspected he may have broken a couple of ribs when the Galra fighter rammed into him.  More than anything else, all five of them just wanted to treat their wounds, crawl into bed, and sleep for at least seventeen hours.  

“I insist that you come with us to the royal palace, so that our king may thank you properly for saving our planet.” The alien told them. 

“We will be happy to speak with your king.”  Allura smiled.  When the alien’s back was turned, she gave them all a pointed look that told them not to complain; diplomacy was one of the most important parts of being a paladin of Voltron.  They couldn’t hope to gather allies without shaking a few hands.  So, they grit their teeth -- except for Keith, who was sporting a pretty sizable bruise on his cheek -- and mentally prepared themselves for a long night of boisterous celebrations from the locals.  It wasn’t that they were ungrateful, but between the exhaustion left behind after the adrenaline from battle wore off, the nagging feeling that they ought to be  _ doing  _ something rather than celebrating when there was so much ahead of them still, and the often loud noise of such festivities, parties weren’t exactly high on their list of priorities or even desires.

No matter how many years they had been doing this, it never seemed to get any easier.  Sure, they had gained more fighting experience, but the battles they fought only seemed to get harder as well.  The reach of the Galra empire was just so  _ vast _ , sometimes it felt like they might spend their whole lives fighting and never make any progress.  They had been at this for seven years, and had freed countless planets from Galra control, but there was just so much work left to do that it seemed like just a drop in the ocean.  Defending the universe was a task of uncountable difficulty.  They all had many more scars than they had left Earth with, both physical and mental.    

The alien that they were following led them into a magnificent hall.  The walls were covered in geometric spirals and shimmered with every color of the rainbow, the floor a similar state but polished silver.  

“Woah, Is that all bismuth?”  Hunk asked, looking around in wonder.  

“Yes,” the alien leading them replied proudly.  “It occurs naturally in our planet’s surface, and makes up seven-tenths of our planet’s exports.”  

“Wow…”

At the end of the hall was a raised dais and two golden thrones, one of which was empty.  Upon the other sat a tall, elegant green alien, who wore a peacock-blue robe and an iridescent bismuth headdress in the shape of a lion with two glittering sapphires set in its eyes.  The king rose to his feet when the group drew near.  

“Words cannot express my gratitude for what you have done, paladins.”  The king said.  “You have ensured the freedom of my planet.  If there is anything I can give you to thank you, just say the word and it shall be done.”

“Material gifts will not be necessary,” Allura smiled.  “We fight in the name of freedom and justice, not monetary gains.  We only ask that, if you are willing, please consider allying yourself with our cause, and in return, we will assist you when needed.”  

“You are very kind.”  The king said.  “And we will stand with you, of course.  But I simply must give you something.  Ah!  Your timing is perfect, actually.  Have you heard of the legend of Uam’tac?”

“I can’t say I have,” Allura said carefully.  “I apologize.”

“Uam’tac is the sacred deity of our planet.  She represents justice, intelligence, and protection.”  He gestured to the lion-shaped headdress he wore.  “As such, we keep the noble creatures that are made in her likeness, and they grant us wisdom and guidance in hard times.  Since our nation’s founding, there has not been a king who ruled without one of these great beings at his side,” he indicated the empty throne beside him.  “Our royal Uam’tac representative just had a litter only recently.  I believe they are still in the safest room in the depths of the castle, where they were taken during the siege.  Please allow us to bestow one of the royal young ones upon you, so that you may carry the wisdom of Uam’tac on your journey.”  Before they could even reply, the king clapped his hands and a door off to the side opened.  Another alien entered the hall, robes billowing as they walked to the dais and presented the small creature to Shiro.  

Pidge let out a gasp at the sight of it, and Hunk covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide.  The creature looked almost exactly like a small kitten, except that its fur was shimmering and just as iridescent as the bismuth-covered walls, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to sparkle like the stars above.  The creature opened its mouth, revealing tiny silver teeth, and emitted a sound that was more of a squeak than a proper meow.  A moment later, Pidge made a similar sound, perhaps a few decibels higher.  Shiro cradled the creature to his chest and looked down at it in what could only be described as awestruck wonder.  

“Oh my god, that is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!” Hunk gushed.  “Look at it!”  

“Shiro, can I hold it?”  Keith asked, tapping the black paladin’s shoulder.  

“No, I want to hold it,” Lance said.  

“Let’s go in order of height, smallest first.”  Pidge suggested.  

“Tallest first.”  Shiro corrected.  

“You’re  _ already  _ holding it--”  Keith protested.  

“Paladins!”  Allura hissed.  “I don’t know what has come over you, but we are in the middle of a diplomatic negotiation here.  Get ahold of yourselves!”  

“What’s there to negotiate?”  Lance asked.  “We’re keeping the cat, right?  We can’t just be rude and turn away their gift.”

“We  _ aren’t supposed to accept gifts _ !”  Allura reminded him through clenched teeth.  At her words, all of the paladins looked crestfallen.  It was such a stark contrast from the expressions they usually wore that it took the princess by surprise.  The tiny creature reached up one paw and patted Shiro on the nose, and the normally stoic black paladin looked about ready to break down in tears.  They all looked miserable at the thought of letting it go.  

Allura sighed and turned back to the king, fixing a cordial smile in place.  “We thank you for your alliance with our cause, and for the gift.  We accept both with the humblest of gratitude.”  She didn’t understand the reason behind her paladins’ actions, but she wasn’t about to deprive them of the joy this creature had brought to their faces, not when she had given them such a difficult task as defending the universe.  

The paladins’ faces lit up in delight at her words and they all gathered around Shiro, grinning from ear to ear and stroking the creature’s iridescent fur.  

“At least control yourselves until we get back to the castle!”  Allura hissed, noticing the way the king and his attendants were looking at them in bewilderment.  Reluctantly, the paladins took their places in line once again, although they kept sending furtive glances at the creature and Shiro was still subtly petting it, the thumb of the hand cradling its back rubbing over the fur between its shoulder blades.  

The king cleared his throat.  “Yes, well, the descendants of Uam’tac are sacred creatures worthy of the utmost respect.  Please do well to revere them.”  

“Yes sir,” Shiro nodded, his expression gravely serious.  “I will protect this creature with my life.” 

The kitten crawled up onto his shoulder and mewed in his ear.   Pidge and Lance looked like they were fighting back giggles.  Allura just stared at them, dumbfounded.  Did Earthlings perhaps worship Uam’tac as well?  

“I hope that it will provide you with the wisdom needed to defeat Zarkon and rid the galaxy of Galra rule.”  The king finished.  

The group of them managed to make it back to the castle-ship before they broke composure completely, huddling around the creature the moment the doors closed behind them.  

“Oh my gosh, you’re so  _ pretty _ !”  Hunk gushed, rubbing under the kitten’s chin with a finger.  “Pretty pretty kitty…”  

“It’s  _ purring _ ,” Shiro said, his voice choked with awe.  

“Shiro, can I hold it now?”  Pidge asked, looking excited.  Shiro carefully pried the kitten’s silver claws out of his shirt and transferred the tiny body into Pidge’s hands.  “Oh my goodness, oh my  _ goodness _ !”  Pidge’s voice rose to a squeak, and the kitten let out similar-sounding mew.  

Keith reached out a finger and stroked the soft fur on the inside of its front leg.  The kitten pawed at him and he let its paw rest in his hand.  “You’re doing happy-paws, you’re so happy, aren’t you?”  He cooed, not even minding the tiny pinpricks he was getting from the kitten’s silver claws kneading his hand.  

Lance bent down and pushed his nose into the kitten’s fur.  “Oh man, it’s got that baby-kitten smell.  Look at you, you little cutie.”  He rubbed the space between its ears with the tip of his finger.  

Allura rested her hands on her hips and watched the scene in front of her, at a complete loss for words.  She had never, ever seen these paladins act the way they were right now.  It was like a switch had been flipped, one that had replaced her battle-weary warriors with soft-spoken, awed creatures.  They hadn’t even moved from their spot just inside the doors, all of them too enthralled by the small creature.  

“What should we name him?”  Lance asked.  

“It could be a her,” Hunk pointed out.  

Shiro tickled the kitten’s belly, making it roll onto its back and harmlessly attack his finger.  He glanced near its tail.  “Looks like a girl.”  

“Don’t you coercively assign a gender to our baby.”  Pidge chastised him.  They lifted the kitten up to their face and rubbed their noses together.  “You can be whatever you want to be, you little cutie patootie.”  

“Let’s name them Nyancat!”  Lance suggested.  

“You are not naming our cat after a meme.”  Keith told him.  

“But it’s a  _ rainbow cat _ !”  Lance protested.  

“Niji?”  Shiro suggested.  

“That’s just the Japanese word for rainbow.”  Pidge pointed out.

“Shiro, we love you, but you’re not the best at naming things.”  Hunk patted his shoulder.

“I’m not, but Niji is better than Nyancat.”  Shiro said.

“I’m not even offended.”  Lance said, kissing the cat between its ears.  “I have no negative emotions left in me.”  

Coran poked his head around the corner, blinking as he took in the sight.  He had stayed behind on the ship to do some repairs on things that had been damaged in the earlier battle, so he hadn’t seen the paladins’ outburst at the creature until that moment.  “What on Altea has come over them?”  He asked, standing beside Allura.  

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”  Allura shook her head.  “They’ve been like this since the moment they saw that creature.” 

“Ah, the descendents of Uam’tac?”  Coran recognized the creature when he caught a glimpse of it while Pidge carefully handed it to Lance.  “I believe they’re only worshipped on this planet.  It would be strange if a planet as isolated as Earth shared such a cult.”  

“It doesn’t quite look like worshipping…” Allura said slowly, watching Hunk lay kisses on the creature’s head.  “Although, it does seem reverent.”  

Coran cleared his throat.  “Paladins, if I may ask, do Earthling humans also share the religion of Uam’tac?”  

“Nope.”  Keith said, smiling as the kitten chewed harmlessly on his finger.  

“Oh, dat’s right,” Pidge cooed at the kitten.  “Those people thought you were a god, didn’t they?  The god of cuteness, maybe!”                  

“Then… care to explain?”  Allura asked, still mystified.  

Lance looked up.  “Coran, remember back when you looked up that stuff about pets?”  He pointed to the cat.  “This kind of thing is what I was talking about.”

Allura looked stunned as Keith made kissy noises at the kitten and Shiro -- a grown, battle-hardened man -- actually giggled when it pawed at his nose.    

“Ahhh,” Coran nodded sagely.  

“I don’t understand.”  Allura said as Pidge let out a quiet but high-pitched squeak at the sight of the kitten yawning.  “Did we manage to… to  _ break _ our paladins?”

“No,” Coran laid a hand on her shoulder.  “Quite the opposite.  This is very,  _ very  _ good for humans.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay now I just want to pet a cat...


	8. Funny bones and charley horse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This WAS completed but then some people commented with good ideas and I thought of a couple more too.

If Pidge were the type of person to believe in the supernatural and magic, they would definitely put a curse on every tall person who thought it was acceptable to keep things on the top shelf.  And curse whoever put a shelf that high up in the first place.  Or maybe they would just use a spell to make themselves taller instead, but cursing tall people would be more fun.

But alas, magic was not real, and science wasn’t able to make shrink rays (yet), so Pidge would have to turn to other methods in order to get to the cookie jar.

Yes, the biggest cliché of all, the proverbial cookie jar on the top shelf.  A few days ago, Hunk had been experimenting in the kitchen again and had finally --  _ finally  _ \-- successfully engineered a recipe that tasted somewhat like Earth cookies.  It helped that he now knew the Altean letters that spelled out ‘scaultrite’, and that they had convinced Coran to stop leaving inedible building materials in the kitchen where they could be mistaken for ingredients.  The cookies came out violently purple and tasted a bit like sugar cookies mixed with something fruity.  Hunk was still trying to achieve that chocolate flavor they were all craving, but fruity sugar cookies were a good start.  Someone had even managed to find a cookie jar shaped like a chubby little Klanmürial in the back of one of the cabinets, which Allura said she hadn’t seen since she was a child.  The cookies were placed in the Klanmürial jar, which was then set on the counter, where it was  _ supposed  _ to stay.  But  _ someone  _ had moved it to the top shelf.  Pidge suspected Shiro, as he had mentioned the other day that the rest of them were going through them pretty fast.  He probably just wanted more cookies for himself, the traitor.  

But if there was one thing Shiro ought to know by now, it was that nothing was off-limits to a Holt.  What did you get when you crossed a family of vertically-challenged people with a love of science and innovation?  Craftiness, that’s what.  Back when little-Matt and toddler-Katie were too small to reach the branches of the tree in the backyard, Sam had gotten quite good at scaling the tree, even up to the highest branches, to retrieve a myriad of balls, frisbees, kites, and bottle rockets that had ended up there.  When he was twelve, Matt had been left in charge of re-painting the wooden stairs into the basement, and poor planning had led to him being trapped at the bottom. Instead of waiting for the paint to dry, he had just chimney-climbed up the laundry chute.  The first time Sam and Matt brought Shiro around for dinner, they had pulled into the driveway to find Colleen up on the roof, attempting to lure the family dog back inside after he had managed to push up the screen with his nose and climbed out.  And, of course, Pidge hadn’t let a little thing like a four-story climb up the side of a building at night stop them from breaking into Iverson’s office to hack his computer.

Height couldn’t keep Pidge out of a military facility, and it sure wasn’t going to keep them out of these cookies.  They climbed up onto the counter, an easy enough task, and opened one of the cabinets that was hanging overhead.  The shelves inside, stacked with dishes, seemed sturdy enough, but Pidge decided to grab hold of the side of the cabinet itself, just in case.  The cabinets were pretty deep and stuck out as far as the countertop did, so they had to arch their back instead of standing up straight, but they weren’t the current champion of the Holt family overhang rock climbing competition for nothing.  They stretched their other arm out, but they were still a bit short of reaching the jar, which was pushed back a little so it didn’t fall off the edge.  Pidge rose up onto their toes and brushed the Klanmürial’s ceramic foot with their fingertips, just as the kitchen doors opened behind them.  

“--but we could divert power from the unused parts of the castle to contribute to the particle barrier generator,” Coran was saying.

“Yes, I suppose we don’t really need to keep all those areas-- oh goodness!  Pidge, whatever are you doing?!”  Allura asked, sounding shocked.  

“Uh-oh.”  Shiro said, but he sounded more amused than concerned.  

“Sup,” Pidge greeted nonchalantly.  Just a little further…

“Need some help?”  Shiro crossed his arms and looked up at them, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile.

“Nah, I got it.”  Pidge pushed up onto their tip-toes, stretching up as far as they could, and… “Aha!”  They managed to scoot the jar a little closer to the edge, enough to grab it.  Suddenly a sharp pain seized through their left foot.  “Ow!  Crap…”  Shifting their weight onto their right foot, they gritted their teeth and lifted the Klanmürial’s ceramic head off the jar so they could grab the jar one-handed.  “Owww quiznak that hurts…”

“What’s wrong?  Are you injured?”  Allura asked, hands hovering nervously behind them in case they fell.  

“Charley horse,” Pidge said, lifting the cookie jar off the shelf.

“Ah,” Shiro nodded, understanding, but the two Alteans just looked even more confused.  

Still balancing on one foot, Pidge handed the cookie jar off to Shiro and worked their way down to a sitting position on the counter.  They hopped off, but landing on one foot threw their balance off a bit and their elbow knocked against the countertop with a loud  _ thunk _ .  “Ah!  Fu-- quiznaking quiznak…” they muttered, rubbing their tingling arm.  

“Charley horse  _ and  _ funny bone?  This might be the universe’s way of telling you not to eat cookies before dinner.”  Shiro said, nibbling on one of the bright purple cookies himself.  

“Then the universe can suck it.  I trained hard today, I deserve a cookie.”  Pidge said, shaking their arm out and reaching down to massage their foot.  

“Are you alright?”  Allura asked again, concerned.  “Do you need to go to the infirmary?”  

“No, it’s just charley horse.”  Pidge said.  Already, the muscle spasms in the sole of their foot were subsiding.

The two Alteans shared a confused glance.  “Whatever did Charlie’s horse to do you?”  Coran asked.  “And how did Charlie and his horse get on the ship?”

“No, no,” Pidge laughed.  “That’s just what we call random muscle spasms, usually in the legs, or I get them in my feet sometimes.  They only last a few minutes, usually.”

“And the other ailment you mention, something about a bone…?”  Allura asked.  

“Oh, I hit my funny bone.”  Pidge said, lifting their arm and showing them their elbow.  

“Goodness, is it broken?”  Coran asked.

“The funny bone isn’t actually a bone,” Shiro said, having finished his cookie.  “It’s a… nerve, I think?”

“Yeah, a nerve here, in your elbow, that feels like a shock if you hit it the wrong way,” Pidge explained.  “But again, the pain fades after a minute or two.”  

“What makes it funny?”  Allura frowned.  “That sounds painful.”

“Irony.”  Pidge snorted.  “The bone in your arm is called the humerus, which sounds like humorous, so funny, but hitting your funny bone isn’t very funny itself.”

“What  _ is  _ funny is that all happened when you were trying to sneak into the cookie jar.”  Shiro said, picking another cookie out of the jar.

“You’re not any better!”  Pidge pointed at him as he bit into his second cookie.

“I’m malnourished from my time in Galra prison and need more food.”  Shiro said easily.

“‘Malnourished’ my ass, you’re a tank.”  Pidge told him, reaching for a cookie.  He smirked and held the jar above his head.  Pidge jammed their index fingers into the sides of his waist, shouting “ _ taser! _ ”  

Shiro yelped and dropped his arms to protect his sides, enabling Pidge to snatch the cookie jar away gleefully.  

“How dare you taser your senior officer…” Shiro crossed his arms over his stomach and rubbed his sides, feigning offense.  

“We’re all equal here and no one is safe from tasering.”  Pidge said, biting into a cookie.  

“I take it ‘taser’ on Earth does not refer to the same electric shock weapon it does on Altea?”  Coran asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, it does.”  Pidge said.  Both Alteans looked horrified.  

“Pidge!  You cannot taser your teammates!”  Allura admonished.  “And this sort of quarrelling is why this should be stored out of reach!”  She said, taking the cookie jar from Pidge.  

“Wha… no, it’s an expression,” Pidge explained.  “Yes, it’s a type of weapon, but people also say it when they poke someone in the sides, usually from the ba-- _ AACK _ !”  They let out a high-pitched yelp and jumped about a foot in the air, whirling around to find Shiro there with his index fingers still held out from poking the green paladin.

“Like that.”  Shiro smirked.

“You little…” Pidge grabbed his shoulder and climbed up onto his back while he laughed and tried to shake them off.  “I have a brother, do not test me, Takashi Shirogane!”  They told him, rubbing their knuckles on top of his head to give him a noogie.   

“Regardless, this sort of quarrelling among you is precisely why these ‘cookies’ should be out of reach.”  Allura said, using her shapeshifting abilities to grow several feet taller and place the jar back on the top shelf.  

“Hey, I worked hard to get those down!”  Pidge protested, looking up at the shelf forlornly.  After all they went through… 

“They lack any real nutritional value, have caused dissent between the two of you ever since you retrieved them, and quite frankly, I think the sugar is having a negative effect on your brains, based on your current behavior.”  Coran said.  “It is for the best that they should be stored up there.”

Pidge and Shiro shared a look over Shiro’s shoulder, devious smirks spreading over both of their faces.  

“I’ll form the head and arms…” Pidge proclaimed, climbing from his back to sit on his shoulders.

“...And I’ll form the legs!”  Shiro added, holding onto Pidge’s legs as he crossed the kitchen to where the cookie jar was.  “Voltron, defenders of the cookies, go!”        

Pidge reached up and grabbed the ceramic jar, ignoring Alluras indignant protest that she had  _ just  _ put that up there  _ for a reason!   _

“We must share our spoils of war with the other paladins!”  Pidge hugged the jar to their chest securely and pointed toward the kitchen door.  “To the lounge!”

“Onward!”  Shiro cried dramatically, hurrying away while Coran shouted after them that they were all getting the traditional paladin meal tonight for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #LetShiroActLikeATeen2k17
> 
> I know there’s a lot of disagreements about Shiro’s age, but given that literally every official description of the show says “five teenagers”, I personally headcanon him as 19 at the oldest, with the rest of them being 17-18 (yes, including Pidge. I can verify as a 5’2” person in my early twenties that it is entirely possible to be mistaken for someone much younger, especially when trying to pass as male)
> 
> Anyway, what happens when a group of teenagers are cooped up with nothing to do? Bonding and hi-jinks, that’s what, and no one is safe. Plus, Shiro is probably a bigger nerd than people give him credit for; the first thing he said to an alien was “we come in peace” for crying out loud. Underneath all that focus and military strategy is a dork. Let him relax and let loose in his downtime, let him act like the young adult he is.


	9. Marker war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: from unmeimiru’s idea in the comments. I don’t know if I got it right but I tried. The paladins took it to the extreme.

“Princess, have you seen the mice anywhere?”  Coran asked, peering around the bridge as he walked in, as if expecting to find the mice sitting on a control panel.  Allura looked up from the star map she was studying.  

“You know, I can’t say that I have…” she said slowly.  “The last I saw them was breakfast, I believe.  Why do you ask?”

“They seem to have developed a nasty habit of stealing my tools.”  Coran frowned, crossing his arms.  “This time it’s my trusty double-headed screwdriver!  It may be rudimentary as far as tools go, but I still need it!”

Allura blinked, arching an eyebrow.  “Is it the blue one?”

“Why yes, have you seen it?”

“Coran.”  Allura gave him a flat look.  “Check behind your ear.”  

He did so, fingers catching on the tool perched behind his ear.  “Oh!  Well, would you look at that, it is there.”  He paused.  “Er, I suppose I should apologize to the mice, then.  I said some not-so-nice things about them a few minutes ago.”  

Allura was about to reply when a heavy  _ thump _ came from the hall outside, followed by a scuffling sound.  The two Alteans exchanged a confused, worried look, then went to go investigate.  What they found when they poked their heads out the door stopped them in their tracks.  Lance and Hunk were fighting -- actually  _ fighting _ \-- in the middle of the corridor, arms locked and shoving at each other with tense grins on their faces.  In each of their right hands was a wide-tipped marker -- blue for Lance and orange for Hunk -- and it looked like the majority of their fighting consisted in trying to get the markers close to the other person while keeping the other’s pen away from themselves.  Even as they watched, Lance hooked his leg around Hunk’s knee and yanked, making him stumble into the wall with a  _ thud _ .  Lance slashed his marker across Hunk’s cheek like a knife, leaving a streak of blue.  “Ha!”

“Oh, it is  _ on _ , man!”  Hunk brandished his marker at him, but Lance ducked and the marker only grazed his elbow.  

A  _ bang  _ echoed from above their heads and Pidge dropped down from one of the vents, landing on Hunk’s back.  “Gotcha!”  They exclaimed, grabbing onto his shoulder and swiping their green marker across Hunk’s forehead.  

Lance lunged forward and took advantage of Pidge needing to keep ahold of Hunk’s shoulder to color the back of their hand.  

“Hey!”

“Consider it payback for drawing an X on my  _ ass _ , green gremlin!”  Lance said, jumping back as Hunk tried to poke him in the stomach with his marker.  

Pidge growled and held their fist up in the air.  There was a flash of green light, and they suddenly flew back up to the vent.  

“No fair!”  Lance shouted.  “We said no bayards!”  

“Do you see a bayard?”

“ _ Putting a cloaking device on your bayard counts as cheating, Pidge! _ ”

“Ha-ha!  Distracted!”  Hunk thrust the marker at him,  leaving a streak of orange across his neck.  Lance spun away and took off running down the hall, but he didn’t get very far before he nearly ran into Shiro, who came flying around the corner.  At first, the Alteans thought he was injured, based on the flecks of red that were on his forehead, but it didn’t seem to be blood.  Keith followed him around the corner, red marker in hand.  

Shiro froze in his tracks and dropped into a defensive stance, black marker at the ready and eyes flicking between Lance and Keith.  For a brief moment, no one moved, then Keith lunged forward and Shiro vaulted off the wall, letting the red and blue paladins crash into each other.  The two of them fell to the floor, rolling and trying to get their markers close to each other.  Shiro ducked around Hunk’s swing but Pidge dropped onto his back, holding on tight and viciously coloring the shell of his ear green while he reached back to swipe his black marker across their cheek.  

“What on Altea is going on here?!”  Allura shouted, making everyone in the group freeze and stare at her, markers poised inches away from faces and arms.  “I have no words… Paladins, this is simply unacceptable behavior!  How can you hope to form Voltron and defend the universe if you keep fighting each other?”  

“In all my years, I have  _ never  _ seen paladins go at each other so openly!”  Coran added, moustache bristling angrily.  “And I was there when  _ Zarkon  _ broke the paladin bond!  At least he had the decency to stage an undercover coup, rather than attacking like crazed Urasi monkeys!”

The five paladins all shared a look with each other.  

“You guys know we’re not actually fighting, right?”  Hunk said.  

“Oh yes, we love each other.  So much.”  Lance pulled Keith into a hug, scrubbing his marker across the back of the red paladin’s neck, who growled and twisted away while leaving a streak of red ink across Lance’s arm.  

“Time-out, you two, time-out.”  Shiro said, touching the tip of his flattened fingers to his palm in a T-shape.  “Maybe we should explain…”

“I say we give them markers and let them figure it out on their own.”  Pidge said, still piggy-backing on Shiro.

“Oh my gosh, that’s a great idea,” Hunk said, reaching into one of the packs he wore on his hips.  “Okay, who wants pink, teal, brown, or navy?”  He asked, holding a mostly-empty package of markers up.  

“Exactly what is going on?”  Allura asked, still bewildered. 

“Marker wars.”  Lance grinned.  “It’s supposed to be like wrestling but with markers, and whoever gets the most marks on them loses.  But  _ someone _ started doing  _ parkour _ , and it kind of spiraled into an all-out battle from there.”  He shot a pointed look at Shiro, who just shrugged.

“If you’ve got it, use it.”  He said.  “We actually started at the other end of the castle, if you can believe it.”

“Is this a training exercise?”  Coran asked.  

“Not intentionally, but it could be.”  Keith mused.  “We were just doing it for fun.”  

“So you do  _ not  _ have ill intentions toward your fellow paladins?”  Allura asked, seeking clarification.  

“Absolutely not.”  Shiro said.  “Do you guys want to join in?”

Allura and Coran exchanged a look, considering it.  They had never heard of such a thing, but it did look fun…

“I call the pink marker!”  Allura said, reaching for it.  Hunk tossed it to her.

“Dark blue, dark blue!”  Coran called, catching the marker when it was thrown to him as well.   


	10. I hate rabbits

“You know, despite the fact that we’re currently stranded on this uninhabited planet for an indeterminate length of time, this is actually kind of nice.”  Hunk said, holding his hands out to warm them over the fire.  They had landed on this lush, forest-filled planet a few hours ago and Coran had turned off the power to the castle to let it ‘rest’, as he put it.  After exploring the surrounding area a little bit and finding a fair number of downed branches, the paladins had decided to make a campfire to pass the time.  The flames were green, for some reason, but it smelled like a regular campfire, and they had even found some logs to sit on.  

“I told you, the castle just needs to rest a bit.”  Coran said.  “For a ship that is older than ten thousand years, we’ve been pushing her pretty hard, lately.”  

“You say that like it’s a living thing.”  Pidge commented.  

“Well, in a sense, it is.”  Allura said.  The paladins all stared at her.

“What?”

“The castle has its own quintessence, you know.”  She said.  “And it is powered by Balmeran crystals.  Remember how the Balmera was a living creature?  So are its crystals.”

“The  _ castle  _ is  _ alive _ ?!”  Hunk couldn’t believe it.  “And you guys are just okay with  _ living inside it _ ?!”

“But of course.”  Allura blinked, confused.  “Everything is alive, in some way or another.  Perhaps not sentient or intelligent, but everything made of matter has some amount of natural quintessence, and is such alive.”  

“And this planet isn’t uninhabited, like you said before.”  Coran added.  “There are hundreds of animal species that live here, and thousands of plants.”

“I meant uninhabited by humans.”  Hunk clarified.

“Oh, well, those only live on one planet, Earth.”  Coran said.  “So, really, you lot are the funny ones.”

“That… really puts it in perspective,” Keith mused.  “Until we left Earth, I never really thought about how small we really are, compared to the universe at large.”

“It’s really something amazing to behold.”  Shiro nodded.  “I remember the first time I realized that, back on the Kerberos mission.  Looking down at the Earth from so far up… it really makes you think.”  He smiled at Pidge.  “Your father even got a little teary-eyed.”  

Pidge giggled quietly at the thought, resting their chin on their hand balanced on their knee.  A comfortable silence settled over the group as they all watched the green flames of their campfire flicker, smoke curling up into the cool night air.  Hunk had found something akin to marshmallows in the kitchen pantry, but when he asked Coran about it, had learned that Alteans had never thought of roasting the marshmallow-type sweets over a fire, so the paladins had scrounged up some clean, thin sticks and taught them how.  Allura had been absolutely thrilled with the practice, while Coran mostly just set his aflame and burnt them, but he didn’t seem to mind the charred taste.  As the group sat quietly, Allura reached for another one of the sweets and pushed it onto her stick, then held it just out of reach of the flickering green flames.  

A soft breeze blew through the clearing they were sitting in, rustling the purple and blue leaves of the surrounding trees.  The fire crackled, and the stream of billowing gray smoke started to shift, blowing toward one end of the circle.

Keith coughed and leaned away from the smoke.  “I hate rabbits, I hate rabbits, I hate rabbits.”  He said, then went back to toasting his own marshmallow as the wind shifted and blew the smoke away, not noticing that most of the group was staring at him.

“Uh, what--?”

Lance’s question was cut off by Pidge coughing on the smoke as it came their way instead.  “Ugh, Keith, seriously?!”  They shot him a glare before closing their eyes against the smoke.  “I hate rabbits, I hate rabbits, I hate rabbits.”  

“Heh,” Keith chuckled.  The smoke didn’t change course this time, though, so Pidge stood up with a growl and stalked to the other end of the circle to sit next to Allura.  

“Question,” Hunk spoke up.  “What the  _ heck  _ did rabbits ever do to you two?”  

“Nothing.”  Pidge said, popping an un-toasted marshmallow into their mouth.  “That’s how you get rid of smoke.”

“It’s a superstition, of course.”  Keith smirked.  “Doesn’t mean it’s not cool when it works, though.”  

“It didn’t even work, though!”  Pidge pointed their stick at him.

“The wind changed when I said it.”  Keith shrugged, smirking.  “Maybe the rabbits just fear me more.”      

“What do rabbits have to do with smoke, though?”  Coran asked.  “We had rabbits on Altea.  Cute little fluffy creatures, they were, except for their deadly poisonous fangs.  Nothing to do with fire.”

“I don’t know, it’s just a thing people say.”  Pidge said.

“Not everyone.”  Lance said.  “I have never heard anyone say that until today.”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been to summer camp, then,” Pidge said.  “It’s like those weird children’s folklore things with no known origin, like jump rope songs or drawing that cool S shape.”

“I always heard it came from an old story about gray smoke looking like rabbit fur.”  Keith said.

“Hmm, interesting.”  Coran said thoughtfully, blowing out his flaming marshmallow.  A peaceful quiet settled over the group again, broken only by the crackling pops of the campfire.  A few minutes later, though, another breeze gently blew through the clearing, sending the smoke in Lance’s direction.  

He coughed and flapped a hand at the smoked, shutting his eyes against the smoke.  “I  _ hate  _ rabbits!”  He said with a startling amount of ferocity.

Keith and Pidge both burst out laughing.  “You have to say it three times, you dork!”  Pidge said.  “You just sound ridiculous!”  

“How is saying it once  _ any  _ less ridiculous than saying it three times?”  Lance asked.  “You’re trying to get the wind to change, not summoning Bloody Mary!”

“What happens if you say you love rabbits, instead of hating them?”  Shiro asked.

“Probably nothing.”  Pidge said.

“Try it.”  Keith suggested.

“That’s dumb, it’s just words--” Lance said.

“I love rabbits, I love rabbits, I love rabbits.”  Shiro said.  For a moment, nothing happened, then the wind shifted again and blew the smoke in his direction.

“Oh my god!”  Lance shouted, jumping away from the smoke like he was afraid it was possessed.  Pidge cackled at his reaction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> APPARENTLY this is not an especially well-known thing, as I found out. As far as I can tell from asking like 20 friends from the Midwest and Kentucky, this is a Northern Midwest America thing, but wikipedia says there’s also a British origin of it, but slightly different? It was definitely well-known where I grew up in IL; I think I got to high school before I met anyone who DIDN'T know it. Leave a comment if you’ve ever heard of it! I’m curious now.


	11. Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place near the beginning of the series back when they're still on Arus. Because who needs a linear timeline?

If there were two pastimes Hunk loved, it was tinkering and cooking, especially baking.  Really, engineering and baking weren’t all that different; you just ended up with a tasty treat with one of them.  He relished in the precision of the measurements, the chemical reactions, the fact that everything had an order and a place and a method.  It was what relaxed him when he was stressed, being able to lose himself in the steps and the precise measurements of ingredients or metal.  He liked being a paladin, too, but he craved stability, routine, and ample preparation time, and those things were a lot harder to come by in an intergalactic war.  He also missed Earth, terribly so.  He missed his family and his friends back home.  He missed feeling the earth under his feet and the sensation of digging his toes in the sand or getting dirt on his hands in his grandfather’s garden.  He had thought he had been homesick at the Garrison, away from his mother’s cooking, but at least there was still recognizable Earth food in the Garrison canteen (with the exception of the Wednesday mystery meatloaf.  He was pretty sure that stuff was extraterrestrial in origin).  But that was nothing compared to the overwhelming cravings the paladins were all getting after a couple of weeks of eating nothing but green food goo.  Alteans, as it turned out, had completely different taste buds than humans, so while they actually liked the goo, the same could not be said for the paladins.  Even Shiro, who had been grateful for literally any kind of food that wasn’t stale bread and whatever putrid meat the Galra gave their prisoners, was starting to get tired of the same green food goo every day, three times a day, seven days a… er, Spicholian movement, he guessed.  

So, Hunk took it upon himself to try and liven up their diet, both for the benefit of the team and because, quite frankly, he was homesick and his hands were itching for something to do.  If there was anything his grandfather -- a devout gardener and naturalist -- had taught him, though, it was “never put anything in your mouth unless you know exactly what it is”.  That lesson was right up there with “never stick your hand into a hole without first figuring out what lives in it”, but Hunk hadn’t seen any potential snake or lizard dens on Arus.  What he  _ had _ found, though, was a variety of berries and vegetation.  Before trying anything, though, his grandfather’s words came back to him and he spent a couple of days whipping up a hand-held device that was programed to analyze the chemical makeup of foods to make sure he didn’t poison himself or any of his team.  Only once the device was created and sufficiently tested did he venture out into the savanna-type Arusian forests surrounding the Castle of Lions.  

He returned a couple hours later feeling satisfied with a large basket full of berries, tubers, and vegetable stalks.  Back in the kitchen, he spread out the ingredients on the countertop and double-checked them with his scanner before tasting them, making notes about what they tasted like.  Some looked fine but turned out to be utterly revolting, some tasted vaguely like foods back on Earth, and some contained new, alien flavors he had never experienced before.  Leaving the notebook on the edge of the counter, he grouped the ingredients by what would go well together and placed what he didn’t need at the moment in the cryo-fridge in the corner.  After that, he hunted around the cabinets for a knife, cutting board, and a couple of saucepans, getting to work making something for dinner.  The rest of the paladins were going to be so excited when they saw this…

“Evening, Hunk,” Coran greeted as he came up to him.  “Ah, so you found the kitchen.” 

“Hey, Coran,” Hunk popped a blue berry -- not a blueberry, but a bright cyan-colored berry that tasted oddly like melon -- into his mouth as he worked.  He couldn’t resist snacking on the ingredients as he cooked.  He had to taste-test, after all.  

“Making dinner?”  Coran asked.  “Might I tempt you into trying the traditional paladin dish again?  I promise it’s much better than it smells.”  

“Uh, I’ll pass, sorry.”  Hunk said, stirring the vegetables he was frying.  

“Maybe another time, then,” Coran said.  Hunk didn’t think that was likely. 

He reached for a green and teal fruit that looked and tasted remarkably like dragon-fruit and started slicing it up.  His hand slipped and he ended up with a weird, misshapen chunk that he wasn’t happy with, as it would clash with the rest of the dish’s aesthetic.  Oh well, guess he had no choice but to get rid of it, he thought as he popped it in his mouth.

Coran let out a gasp.  “Oh, good heavens!  Hunk, spit it out, spit it out!”  

“Huh?”  Hunk looked at him, having already swallowed the slice of fruit.  

Coran was wringing his hands and looking very distressed.  “Oh dear, we’ll have to pump your stomach… I don’t even know if we have any antidote in the castle, it’s such a rare plant!  Come now, there’s no time to waste, we must get you in a healing pod before your respiratory system fails!”  He picked up the cutting board gingerly and threw the half-cut fruit into the garbage, board and knife and all.  

“Woah, woah, hang on a second,” Hunk waved his hands.  “I tested that, it was safe!”  He said, picking up the scanner.  He tapped through the screens for a moment, then turned it around to show Coran.  “Look: Arusian Ruyalak fruit, similar in species and taste to Earthling pitahaya or dragonfruit,  _ non-toxic to humans _ .”  

Coran stared at the screen for a moment, then peered into the garbage can again.  “But… Arusian Ruyalak is one of the most deadly and toxic fruits in this galaxy.  A single bite of it can kill a full-grown Altean in mere minutes.”  

“Do I look dead?”  Hunk asked.  

“...No.”  Coran admitted.  “But how… this is unheard of!”

“Well, now you’ve heard of it.”  Hunk said.  He frowned at the garbage can.  “Please don’t throw them away, I only found two and they were tasty.”  

“You’re going to continue eating it?”  Coran looked at him, aghast.  

“Yeah?  It’s good, and it tastes a lot like something we have back home.”  Hunk said.  “Although, I guess I won’t be making any for you or Allura.  It’s not an airborn thing, is it?”

“No, it is only a danger if it is ingested.”  Coran said.

“Hm, maybe I’ll save it for a snack, anyway.”  Hunk mused, picking up the other fruit.  “Wouldn’t want you guys to get sick from being near it, just in case.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t get sick.”  Coran said.

“Well, that’s a relief--”

“We would die almost immediately.”  

“...Never mind.”  Hunk grabbed a storage container and placed the remaining fruit in it.  “I’m going to put it in here, and we can label it in English and Altean so everyone knows what it is.  Can you grab a label from over there and write the name of it?”  

Coran did so, picking up a sheet of sticky labels and a marker.  He wrote something in neat, spiraling alien script and then peeled the label off.  Hunk snapped the lid on top of the container and held it out to Coran, who jumped a little and stayed as far away from the container as physically possible while he carefully set the label on top, barely sticking it on before retreating a few steps.  Hunk chuckled as he smoothed the label down.  “I don’t want to throw out good fruit, but I promise I won’t bring any more into the castle without telling you guys first.”  He looked down at the label Coran had written.  “Wow, the word for Arusian Ruyalak is really long in Altean.”  It looked like an entire sentence.

“Oh, it says ‘ _ Arusian Ruyalak, deadly poison, do not touch under any circumstances! _ ’, actually.”  Coran said.

Hunk snorted quietly in amusement and picked up the pen, writing another label.  Coran peered over his shoulder as he stuck it under the Altean one.  

“What does that one say?”  

“It says ‘ _ Arusian Ruyalak, tastes like dragonfruit, safe for human consumption but toxic for Alteans _ ’.”  Hunk explained.  

“It seems like there should be more urgency in that.”  Coran said, looking doubtful.  “You’re sure you aren’t dying?  Perhaps we should put you in a pod just in case.  And, ah, if you come back out to find that fruit gone, I had nothing to do with it.”

Maybe he should share this one with the paladins quickly, before it ended up in the garbage can.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arusian Ruyalak is the plant equivalent of a blue-ringed octopus. You touch it, you dead. Unless you’re not Altean. 
> 
> Coran’s just trying to protect his strange little Earthling paladins. They're like puppies, always putting everything they come across in their mouths...


	12. Abbreves

“You’re sure about this?”  Coran asked, looking from the data-book to the gray-skinned alien in front of him.  The alien blinked their large eyes, the lights of the marketplace reflecting off the dark depths in an eerie sort of way.  

“We have conducted countless studies of Earthling culture.”  The alien said in a grainy, electronic-sort of voice.  To be frank, this particular species had always sort of unsettled Coran, though he dared not say anything about it.  

“So I’ve heard.”  Coran said dryly.  “Have you actually included any interviews with Earthlings in your studies?”  They were quite notorious for neglecting to do that.

“We don’t need to interview them to understand their culture.”  The alien waved a long-fingered hand carelessly.  “If anything, their strides in technology have made observing them from afar even easier.  They’re always bouncing electronic signals around; intercepting them is a simple matter.  Now, do you want the book or not?”  

Coran frowned down at the data-book in his hand.  He tried to scroll past the introduction, but a message popped up that read “ _ you must purchase this data-book to access the next page. _ ”  Quiznak.  He should have expected nothing less from them.  

“Fine.”  He dug his wallet out of his bag.

“One hundred thirteen GAC.”  The alien said, holding out a hand.

Coran arched an eyebrow.  “You said it was a hundred before.”

“Yes, a hundred before tax.”  The alien smirked.  

“Tax?  What is ‘tax’?”

“It’s a sacred Earthling custom, and as such, is mandatory on all Earthling products, including information.”  The alien said.

Oh of all the… Coran was almost certain the alien was making that up.  Even if Earthlings did have this ‘tax’, he doubted they would require it on information they weren’t even aware was being shared.  No doubt this was just a money-making tactic by the Grays themselves.  They seemed unmoving, though, so Coran reluctantly shelled out a hundred and thirteen GAC.  

The alien counted the money, then waved a hand over the device.  “It is unlocked. Enjoy your dictionary.”  

~~~~~

Back on the castle-ship, Coran hid the data-book in his room and elected not to tell any of the paladins about what he had found.  He wanted it to be a surprise, and although he was bristling with excitement, it would be worth it to see their faces.  He had noticed Pidge as well as some of the others occasionally utilizing the introduction to Altean language learning program, and he thought it would be a nice gesture for him to do the same.  He couldn’t resist the chance to impress them, though, so he kept his studying a secret until he was ready to share it.

~~~~~

Shiro rubbed the back of his neck as he walked into the kitchen, muscles pleasantly sore after a good workout on the training deck.  Unfortunately, though, someone had used up the last of the water pouches in the little mini-fridge near the training deck and had neglected to refill it, so he was pretty thirsty after his workout.  He would have to talk to the rest of the paladins about the courtesy of restocking things when they used up the last one, a practice fondly known in his family as “ _ you kill it, you fill it _ .”  

He opened up the cryo-fridge in the kitchen and grabbed one of the water pouches (or as Lance called them, space Capri Suns).  Apparently, these were pretty standard for Alteans, but drinking them still made Shiro feel like he was a ten year-old having a juice pouch during halftime at a youth soccer league, pretending to pay attention to someone’s dad trying to corral the kids into kicking the ball down the field in the proper direction.  Man, what he wouldn’t give right now for the orange slices and fruit gummies that usually accompanied those juice pouches, or even just regular ol’ tap water; natural water was a little hard to come by in space, so they were limited to the synthetically-created water that was filtered and recycled through the castle, and while it didn’t taste necessarily bad, it was distinctly different from natural tap water.  

Closing the refrigerator door, Shiro sucked on the straw of his water pouch.  As he passed the table on his way out of the kitchen, he noticed a note sitting on the corner.  Curious, he picked it up.  It took him a moment to recognize it as English; the somewhat-shaky letters looked like they had been written by someone who had only recently learned the latin alphabet, like a child in elementary school.  It was  _ what  _ was written, though, not  _ how _ , that really made him pause.  

_ Sup paladinz,  _ __  
__ Da scaultrite I bot 2 fix da teleduv turned out 2 b a CWOT bc it wuz da rong type…  OTL.  I went 2 da mall 2 by da rite kind n will b bak ASAP.  CUL8R!  :-)     
~Coran   ☆ﾐ(o*･ω･)ﾉ

Shiro blinked when he finished reading the note, taking a moment to process what he was seeing.  He turned on his heel and set off in search of the rest of the paladins.  As he expected, he found them all in the room with the couches.  Hunk and Pidge were working on some new project in the corner, Keith watching them curiously, and Lance was reading a book on the couch.  

“Alright,” Shiro stopped in front of them.  “Which one of you taught Coran mid-2000s chat-speak?”  

Everyone looked first at him, then at each other, then finally Lance.  

Lance blinked.  “Why are you all looking at me?”

“You taught him the word ‘balderdash’ last week.”  Hunk pointed out.

“You can’t deny he looks like someone who would use it.”  Lance defended.  “But I only taught him that one word, which doesn’t exactly count as 2000s chat-speak.”  

“Let me see it.”  Pidge said, reaching for the note.  Shiro handed it over.  Hunk peered over Pidge’s shoulder as they read it aloud, slowly enunciating every spelling error as it was written.  “Dear God, this is giving me 4chan flashbacks.”  Pidge muttered.  

“What even is CWOT?”  Hunk asked.

“CWOT?”  Lance frowned.  “I’ve never heard of that one.”

“I think it’s ‘complete waste of time’, but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone actually use that.”  Pidge said.  “This is a mess… d- substitutions of th- letters, early 2000s texting lingo, abbreviations, and emoticons from three different languages.”

“Where did he get this from?”  Keith asked.  

“No idea,” Lance said.  “But I move to establish ‘ _ sup paladinz _ ’ as the official way to start team debriefings.”

“No.”  Several of them spoke up in unison.  Lance huffed and crossed his arms.  

Suddenly the doors slid open and Coran walked in, carrying a stack of new teleduv lenses.  “Ah, paladins, did you see the note I left?”

“Yeah, we did.”  Hunk said.  “Coran, where did you learn to write like this?”  

“A dictionary of modern Earthling language!”  Coran beamed proudly.  “I’ve been studying it for the past several quintants, and I think I’m getting the hang of it!”  

“Really?  And where did you get this dictionary from?”  Lance asked.  

“I bought it off a Gray alien when we went to that marketplace in the Niju’uhcu solar system.”  Coran explained.  “The Grays are famous for their studies of Earthling culture.  Well, they’re really more infamous for it, actually.  Most of us see them as a bit rude; always popping up unannounced on the planet and seldom interacting with the locals, and they have a tendency for scrambling the memories of any humans they do interact with.  Despite their secrecy, though, I believe many Earthlings have stories about them, outrageous as they seem.  Can’t seem to leave absolutely no trace during their data-gathering, apparently.”  He pulled out a small tablet and showed it to them.  “But the Grays do put out some fascinating studies from time to time.  This one is a dictionary of modern Earthling language, which I have been studying to better communicate with you all!”

“Coran, that’s… a very nice gesture, really.”  Shiro started gently.  “But… I’m afraid your dictionary might be a bit outdated.”  

“Yeah, no one really writes like this anymore.”  Lance added.  

“What?!”  Coran looked shocked.  “But the information looked verified!”

“It was, at one point.”  Pidge explained.  “Back when everyone used flip phones where you had to push a button multiple times to get a letter.”

“Oh, wait, I have one of those.”  Keith said, rooting through one of the packs on his hips and pulling out an old, blocky flip-phone.  

“Oh my God,” Lance stared at it.  “This is a  _ relic _ .  Why do you even have this?”

“Not everyone can afford fancy smartphones.”  Keith shrugged.  “Plus, no one really calls me.”

“Anyway, Coran, this is the kind of device that people used during the time when they made up a lot of those abbreviations.”  Pidge explained, while Keith showed him how it worked.  “And phone companies used to charge by the letter for text messaging, so people tried to keep their messages as short as possible.  But then the charging policies changed and they invented full-keyboard phones, and by the time they invented smartphones with autocorrect, these kind of abbreviations became considered obsolete.” 

“Fascinating…” Coran mused.  “Such rapid advancement in technology and language is impressive; your planet may even become part of the Galactic League of Extraterrestrial Exploration within your lifetimes!”  

“I think we’ve got a while to go before Earth can regularly send humans into space the same way you guys do.”  Shiro chuckled.  

“Hang on, I just realized something.”  Lance held up a hand.  “You said some aliens put together this book by going to Earth and studying us?  Like, in spaceships?”

“Presumably, since they had to get there somehow.”  Coran said.

“Do you happen to know if these ships were shaped like a giant disc with a bubble on top?”  Lance asked, tracing the shape.  “And had tractor beams that can pick stuff up?”  

“As a matter of fact, that does sound like the typical design for the Grays’ vessels.”  Coran mused.  

All of the paladins stared at each other.  

“I  _ knew  _ it!”  Pidge said loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five awesome points to the first person to guess the reference the organization Coran refers to. Hint: it’s also the name of a Nicki Minaj song ;D


	13. Swearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH HOW THE TURNTABLES HAVE TABLED. Now it’s time for the hoomans to be confused.

“Let me get this straight,” Shiro said.  “You want us to escort your baby.  To another planet.  And that’s it.” 

“Yes.”  The green-skinned alien nodded.  “But this is not just  _ any  _ baby, you know.  This is the crown prince of the Iekagnig solar system.”

Shiro tried to keep his expression neutral.  “And you thought this was a job for Voltron.  The most powerful weapon in the universe.”

“The  _ crown prince _ of the  _ Iekagnig system _ .”  The alien frowned.  “How are you not getting this?”

_ Oh I’m getting it just fine _ , Shiro thought.   _ It’s you who needs a reality check _ .  He looked to Allura, who gave him a tiny shrug over the alien’s shoulder.  Well, as long as they didn’t have anything actually pressing to do, they might as well do this.  If these aliens were really as important as they seemed to think they were, perhaps they would turn out to be valuable allies.  

Still, babysitting wasn’t exactly what they had signed up for with the whole ‘defending the universe’ thing.  

An hour later, after they had sat through some strange ceremony involving foul-smelling smoke and a green substance they dared not ask about, Team Voltron was walking back to the castle-ship with a green-skinned baby in a silver baby carriage that hovered about half a foot off the ground instead of having wheels.  

“This is by far the strangest thing we have had to do.”  Lance said.  “And yes, I am including flying around in giant mechanical lions.”  

“I don’t know if it’s stranger than literally getting farted out of a weblum,” Hunk admitted.  “But yes, it is certainly unexpected.”  

“According to the coordinates they gave us, we should reach this planet in about three vargas.”  Pidge said, checked a map.  “You’d think they’d just take care of this themselves, since it’s still within the solar system that they  _ run _ .”

“The king wanted maximum security for the crown prince.”  Shiro said flatly.  Just as he spoke, the corner of the hover-carriage knocked against the door jamb, startling the sleeping alien baby awake.

“Quick, get it inside so they don’t see,” Allura hissed, shooing them inside as the baby started to cry.  The rest of them hurried inside and shut the castle-ship’s door.  While Coran got them in the air, the rest of them tried to placate the crying baby.  

“Stop that.”  Pidge pointed sternly at the baby, who completely ignored them and kept crying.  They shrugged.  “That’s all I got.”  

“Don’t you have a sibling?”  Hunk asked.

“I have an  _ older  _ brother.  I wasn’t around when he was a baby.”  Pidge said.  

“All of you are useless.”  Lance smirked, stepping up.  “Come here, you cute little green bean…” he cooed, picking up the baby, but that only made it cry harder.  

“Yeah,  _ we’re _ the useless ones.”  Pidge rolled their eyes.  

“Maybe it just needs some time…” Lance started bouncing as he swayed from side to side, patting the baby’s back.  After a few minutes, though, he started to frown.  “I don’t understand… this is the patented big brother Lance way of getting any baby to fall asleep…” 

“Does it need some…” Keith dug around in the silver bag the aliens had given them, pulling out a bottle full of something blue and glowing that honestly looked radioactive.  “Uh… this?”  

“Maybe…”  Hunk held the bottle near the baby’s mouth, but it just smacked it away with surprising strength for something so small, wailing harder.  “...Apparently not.”

Lance held the baby out to Allura, who took it gingerly.  She stood stiffly, as if she wasn’t sure what to do, and she made a face at the way the baby was shrieking.  “Why did you give it to me?”  She asked Lance, confused.  

“I thought you might have an idea of what to do.”  Lance said.  Allura stared at him uncomprehendingly.  He shrugged.  “I don’t know, since you’re a girl?  Maternal instincts and all that.”  

“ _ My _ instincts are telling you to kick you in the face.”  Pidge said flatly.  “Must be maternal, because I’m a girl.”

“Didn’t you take care of Coran when he got turned into a baby?”  Shiro asked.  

“That was only for a few doboshes, and I was a bit preoccupied with  _ steering the ship into a wormhole  _ at the time.”  Allura told him.  She patted the baby’s back awkwardly.  

“Good heavens, what is going on down here?”  Coran poked his head in before entering.  “I’ve got us on course to the planet and thought I’d come check on you.  What on Altea happened to that prince?”

“He won’t stop crying.”  Allura said, handing the baby off to Coran.  

“Did you try spinning him?”  Coran asked.  

“...Spinning?”  

Coran held the baby against his chest and started spinning in circles in place.  Almost immediately, the cries subsided and the baby was asleep within moments.  Coran stopped and stumbled a little bit, dizzy.  “Whew!  I haven’t done that since the princess was a baby herself.  I’m a bit out of practice, but there we go, he should sleep soundly for a while.”  He said, setting the baby back in the hover-carriage.  

“How did you know to do that?”  Shiro asked.  

“Everyone who’s ever been around a baby knows that.”  Coran said.  “You mean to tell me Earthlings don’t spin their young?”

“No, we usually rock them,” Lance mimed rocking a baby.  

“I have to admit, even I didn’t know that…” Allura said.  

“Well, children are somewhat rare on Altea, given our long life-spans.”  Coran said.  “And the friends you had were all about the same age as you, so you weren’t around young babies very much.”

“How long will he sleep for?”  Hunk asked, pointing at the baby.  

“Oh, probably a varga or two.”  Coran said.  “Ah, quiznak, I should baby-proof this part of the castle!  Can’t have the crown prince wandering into a vent or chewing on an energy crystal!”  

“Wait, Coran--!”  Lance hissed, but the Altean man had already run off.  The rest of them froze and stared at the baby, who shifted around in his sleep with a soft noise.

“Alright, everyone be very quiet…” Shiro whispered.  “We’ll all take turns keeping an eye on him.  Hopefully he’ll sleep until we get to our destination.” 

~~~~~

Luck was apparently not on their side.  The crown prince only slept for two vargas before waking up in the middle of Hunk’s babysitting shift.  

“Please stop crying, you strange little green thing…” Hunk cooed, picking the baby up out of the carriage.  A tiny green hand flailed around and smacked him in the face.  “Okay, ow, that was not very nice, but I’m willing to overlook that considering you are literally a baby…” he muttered, rocking him from side to side before remembering what Coran said.  “Alright, let’s try it…” He started spinning in a circle, and the baby did stop crying but Hunk also got very, very dizzy.  “Uh-oh…” He stumbled a few steps to the left and dropped onto the couch, feeling like the room was turning around him.

The lounge door opened and the rest of the paladins hurried in, having heard the baby crying from the other room.  

“Damn it, we were so close to getting there without him waking up.”  Pidge muttered.  

“Pidge, don’t swear in front of the baby!”  Hunk admonished.  

“It has the comprehension skills of a doorknob, one ‘damn it’ isn’t going to kill it.”  Pidge told him.  

“Did you try doing the spinning thing?”  Shiro asked.  

“Yeah, someone else is going to have to do that,” Hunk said, handing the baby off to Lance.  “I got too motion sick from it.”  

“Alright, let’s try this…” Lance started spinning around in circles, and the baby stopped crying but didn’t fall asleep again.  He stopped and looked down at him, then back up at the rest of them.  “Now what do we do?”

Thinking quickly, they dug through the silver bag the alien king had given them and located what looked like a blanket and some toys.  Luckily, the baby giggled quietly and reached for the toys, seemingly sated for now.  The paladins and Allura formed a little circle around the baby so he wouldn’t wander off, and the baby seemed content to just toddle from person to person and show off his toys.  

“Yes, that is indeed the shinier of the two toys.”  Pidge told the baby.  He shook the shiny bells on a ring in their face before crossing the circle to show Keith.  “You know, I think I know how Coran felt that first day we met, when he said the thing about ‘primitive neural synapses’.  Makes sense, now.”  Pidge said.

“We should be reaching our destination soon, and then we can hand him off to his people again,” Allura said, checking the time on her ticker.  Just then, the doors opened and Coran walked in.  

“How is the little crown prince doing?”  He asked.  

“Fine, we think.”  Shiro replied.  The crown prince in question drew his arm back and threw his toy right at Coran, striking him in the face.

“Ah!  Quiznak!”  Coran rubbed his forehead, while the baby just giggled and clapped his hands gleefully.

“All of you need to stop swearing around the baby!”  Lance frowned.  “What if he learns one of those words and repeats it around that king?”

“Qwid-nak.”  The baby clapped his hands.  He picked up a ball and toddled over to Shiro.  “Qwid-nak!”  He then pressed the ball into Shiro’s hand and said “qwid-nak” once more with utmost seriousness before wandering off.

“Fantastic.”  Lance groaned.  “You taught the baby a curse word.”       

“Oh, quiznak is hardly a bad word.”  Coran waved a hand carelessly.  “He can say it all he likes.”

“Hang on, we’ve never actually talked about what that word means in English.”  Hunk realized.  “I was thinking it was basically the F-word.”

“What is the F-word?”  Allura asked.

“Fuck.”

“ _ Pidge! _ ”

“What?  She asked!”

“Anyway, it’s a word that you shouldn’t say around polite company, such as royalty.”  Hunk said.  “Or around babies.  Certainly not around royal babies.”  

“Fak.”  The baby said, chewing on an alien doll’s head.  The paladins all groaned.  

“Hopefully they won’t know that word…” Keith muttered.  

“But ‘quiznak’ is fine to say around children.”  Coran said.  

“Then it must not be the same thing as ‘fuck’.”  Shiro mused.

“Can we all stop swearing around the child, please?!”  Lance hissed, pressing his hands over the baby’s pointed ears.  “Say ‘fudge’ or ‘fiddlesticks’, at least!”

“Go fiddlestick yourself.”  Pidge stuck their tongue out at him.  The baby promptly stuck his tongue out too, copying them.  

“What is a fiddlestick?”  Coran asked.  

“It’s a word we use instead of the f-word around polite company.”  Shiro explained.    

Allura snapped her fingers.  “I think I’ve got it.  Coran, they must be thinking of the longer q-word.”

“Ohhh…” Coran nodded.  “That would make sense.  I believe our ‘quiznak’ must be your ‘fiddlesticks’.”  

“What’s the longer word?”  Keith asked, curious.

“Oh good heavens, I can’t say that.”  Coran deflected.

“What?  No fair, we told you our word!”  

“Um… well…” Coran glanced at Allura, then reached over and clapped his hands over her ears.  “ _ Quizasshineik! _ ”  He hissed, barely above a whisper.  

“Coran, I  _ know  _ the word.”  Allura gave him a flat look.  

“Quiza… hang on, one more time?”  Pidge smirked mischievously.

“No!  I will not say it again!”  Coran shook his head.  

“We’re just trying to learn Altean, come on,” Keith added, sharing a mischievous look with Pidge.  

“No!  Quiznak!  That’s all you’re allowed to say!  Only quiznak!”  Coran said firmly, making an X with his arms.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never trust any of these space children with a baby.  
> I love the idea of ‘quiznak’ meaning ‘fuck’ because it’s literally the first thing Coran says when he sees the paladins, and he says it so often after that so it would be funny if he’s just swearing like a sailor. But also consider; what if ‘quiznak’ is like, a really lame swear, like someone saying “oh fiddlesticks” in English. That’s pretty funny too, I think. “Here’s an idea, shut your fiddlestick.”


	14. Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from navso311's comment, "lance can hold his liquor, keith cant, pidge kinda, hunk can mix drinks but he doesn't drink, shiro is only wine (any kind like rice wine grape wine sangria etc), the alteans are confused as to why the paladins are poisoning themselves for fun"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t condone underage drinking, whatever that age is wherever you live. That being said, I’m also not naive enough to think that underage drinking doesn’t happen. /I/ didn’t, but that’s because I took a sip of wine at a family party, said “this is disgusting”, and just never really had an interest in it. Still don’t, even though I’m 23. There’s like… three or four drinks I’ll drink, and I will choose a coke or pepsi or juice over all of them any day (I’m v boring at work enkais lmao). But that’s just me. All I can say is be safe and drink lots of water.
> 
> Once again, in this particular fic, Pidge is 17 going on 18, Keith Lance and Hunk are 18, and Shiro is 19. They're teenagers in space, what do you think they're gonna do? And, once again, WRITING SOMETHING IN A FIC DOES NOT MEAN CONDONING IT IN REAL LIFE. (cue everyone reading this from various places where the legal drinking age is 16/17/18 etc. saying “who the heck cares?”)

“Guys, Keith and I just found the  _ best  _ thing.”  Lance grinned, carrying a bag with a blue and green planet printed on the front.  Team Voltron had stopped at another space mall in search of something else needed to fix something broken on the castle-ship -- none of them had been able to track Coran’s enthusiastic explanation, but the gist of it was something about a broken pipe and a cracked valve -- so Coran was hunting through a space-hardware store, Allura had gone off in search for a pet store to get something for the mice, and the rest of the paladins were allowed to roam the mall provided that they stayed at least in twos and didn’t come back with any more livestock.  Lance had wanted to find another store selling Earthling goods and Pidge and Hunk had been dying for some non-goo food (this time Hunk was careful to check the price), so the group had split up, with Lance and Keith heading to an Earth store and Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro heading to the food court.

“Did you find another video game?”  Pidge asked, leaning forward a little.

“Even better than a video game.”  Lance said, setting the bag on the table.

Pidge slouched back and scraped another bit of ice cream onto their spoon.  “Lies.  Nothing is better than video games.”

“We found  _ this _ ,” Lance pulled a box set of about a dozen bottles in a cardboard box out of the bag with a flourish.  

“Is that… booze?”  Hunk asked. 

Pidge sat forward again.  “I stand corrected.”  

“Hang on, what…?”  Shiro frowned, leaning closer to peer at the alien script on the box.  “ _ Earthling liquid _ … Pidge, do you know that word?”  

“Various?  Variety?”  Pidge studied it, tilting their head.  “I think it’s  _ Earthling drink variety pack _ .”  

“Yeah, that’s what the guy in the store said.”  Keith nodded.  

“Look at all these,” Lance said, picking out some of the bottles.  “A couple types of beer, wine, sake, daiquiri, mojito--”

“I call the mojito.”  Pidge’s hand flew up.  

“ _ You  _ don’t get diddly-squat, minor.”  Lance pointed to them sternly.  

“ _ Wha _ \--?  No way!”  Pidge frowned.  “I’m not even that far off from eighteen!”

“You guys realize the drinking age is twenty-one where we live, right?”  Hunk said.  “And we’re  _ all  _ under that.”  

“That’s never stopped us before.”  Lance said.  “Plus, we’re all legal in lots of countries in Europe, except for Pidge.”

“We’re not in Europe.”  Pidge reminded him.  “There are no laws in space.”

“Well, there are some laws.”  Keith mused.  “I don’t think you’re allowed to murder anyone still.”

“I don’t want to  _ murder  _ anyone, I just want one drink!”  Pidge protested.  “I’ve had drinks at family parties, before.  If you want to get  _ really  _ picky with it, I’m legal in the state of Wisconsin at a bar with a parent.”  

“I don’t see a parent anywhere around you.”  Lance pointed out.

Pidge turned to Shiro, smiling sweetly.  “Space Dad?  What say you?”

Shiro hesitated, looking from the box of drinks to all of them.  “We’re all underage, technically.  But we are in space, where things are different.  If we’re old enough to put our lives on the line defending the universe, then we’re old enough to enjoy a couple of drinks.  There’s not enough here to get all of us wasted.”  He paused, considering it.  “Either we all get to drink or none of us do.  No exclusions based on age.”  

“Sounds fair.”  Keith nodded.  “I vote yes.”  

“I vote yes too.”  Pidge said.  

“I’m actually not a big fan of drinking, so I might only have one, but yeah, I vote yes.”  Hunk said.

“Yes from me.”  Lance said.  

“And from me.”  Shiro said.  

“Then it’s settled.”  Lance clapped his hands.  “We’ll pop these babies in the refrigerator, then after dinner we can crack open a cold one with the boys.”  

Shiro snorted quietly in amusement.  

“I still call the mojito.”  Pidge piped up.

“Alright,  _ fine _ , you get the mojito.”  Lance sighed. 

~~~~~

“Do you think the food goo counts as carbohydrates?”  Hunk asked after dinner.  “And the water on the castle-ship, do you think that’ll be good enough to stop a hangover?”

“No one should go crazy enough to end up with a hangover.”  Shiro said.

“Yeah, there’s not even that much here, when you look at splitting it five ways.”   Lance said, carrying the box over from the fridge.  “Alright, time to crack open a--”

“That joke is dead.  Let it rest in peace.”  Pidge said flatly.  

“Yeesh, alright, no fun for you.”  Lance set the box down on the floor where the paladins were sitting.  “Okay, Pidge called the mojito, any other requests?”  

“I’ll have the daiquiri, if anything.”  Hunk said.  “Also I can mix drinks if anyone wants.”  

Shiro lifted up two bottles enough to see the labels, a green bottle of something dark and a clear bottle of something orange.  “We have wine and an orange screwdriver… think you can make sangria out of that?”  

“Should be able to.”  Hunk said, standing up and heading for the fridge.  “I found some fruits that should be pretty good in that.”

“Awesome.”  Shiro smiled.  

Keith picked up a small cylindrical glass jar.  “One-cup Ozeki?” 

Shiro laughed.  “That’s the cheapest kind of sake.  Not even my grandfather will touch it, and he’s a gruff old  _ inaka-jijii _ .”  

“I’ll try it.”  Keith shrugged.  “I haven’t had good sake so I won’t know the difference.”  

“I want in on that sangria you guys are making.  Also,” Lance pulled a brown bottle with two X’s on it out of the box with a flourish, wiggling his eyebrows.  “The most interesting beer in the world, for the most interesting man in the world.”

“How valiant of you to give that to me.”  Pidge deadpanned.

“It’s for  _ me _ !”  Lance told them.  

Once they all had a drink chosen, they popped off the tops with a bottle-opener Lance had on his keychain and held up the drinks in a toast.

“To space.”  Shiro grinned.  “The final frontier.”  

“To Voltron!”  Lance shouted, and they all echoed him, clinking their bottles together before taking a long sip.  

Keith coughed and looked down at the drink in his hand with a grimace.  “Oh, ugh, that is… really foul.”

“Told you.”  Shiro said, sipping his wine.  

“Betcha can’t drink it all.”  Lance smirked, pointing toward Keith with his beer bottle.  Keith shot him a glare and tipped his head back, chugging the rest of the one-cup sake.  Lance stared at him, stunned.  “Dude.”

“I said it was foul-tasting, not undrinkable.”  Keith said, grimacing and wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.  “I can handle my liquor.”  

“I sure as heck hope so.”  Hunk said, eyeing the empty glass.  “Hey, does anyone want the rest of my daiquiri?”  

“You had  _ one sip _ .”  Keith reminded him.

“Yeah, and I didn’t like it.”  Hunk said.  “I’m picky.  Plus I hate being drunk; if I wanted to be dizzy and throw up, I’d just let Lance fly my lion.”

“Hey!”     

“I’ll take your daiquiri.”  Pidge said, reaching across the circle.  Hunk handed it off.

“Remember we’re not going crazy.”  Shiro warned.  

“I know.”  Pidge said.  “And obviously you guys have never been to a Holt family gathering.  I think I was fifteen when my uncle first offered me a drink.  This ain’t my first rodeo.”  

“My mother would skin me alive if she caught me or my siblings drinking. That shit had to be done far away from the house in small amounts, or else we would get in  _ huge  _ trouble when we got home.”  Lance shivered at the thought.  “I still think she’s going to reach halfway across the galaxy to smack me upside the head.”  

Hunk chuckled and stood up, taking the orange screwdriver and Shiro’s wine over to the kitchen counter a little ways away.  

“We should play a drinking game.”  Pidge said, taking a sip of their mojito and then another of Hunk’s daiquiri.  

“Do we have any cards?”  Lance asked.

“ _ Hammerschlagen _ !”

“Pidge,  _ no _ !”   

“Pidge,  _ yes _ !”  

“We have cards, and probably a cup,” Shiro laughed.  “Maybe a no on the tree stump, nails, and hammer, though.”  

“Reflex check!”  Hunk shouted, and Shiro’s hand snapped up to grab the plastic cup he threw over from the kitchen.  “You passed, good job.”  

“King’s cup!” Lance grinned.  “I’ll get the cards!”  

By the time Lance and Pidge had finished writing up the list of rules and Keith had shuffled the deck of cards they had found a while ago (apparently Alteans had card games, too), Hunk had finished making the sangria and had sat down again with a fruit-flavored water pouch for himself.  

“You need a new drink.”  Lance told Keith, who nodded and started looking through the box.  He picked up a mason jar, larger than the one-cup sake and full of a light amber-colored liquid.  

“Peach moonshine with everclear.”  He said, reading the label.  “What’s moonshine?”

“Really strong stuff.”  Lance said.  “High-proof distilled spirits.”  

Keith twisted the lid off and sniffed it.  Next to him, Pidge coughed and leaned away.  “Whew, I can smell it from here.”  They fanned a hand in front of their face.

“You probably can’t handle it.”  Lance told him, smirking.  

“We’ll see about that.”  Keith said, pouring himself a glass.  “Alright, let’s play.”   

~~~~~

“A little to the left, Princess.”  Coran said, his voice muffled as it came from inside the wall his head and torso were in.  Allura adjusted the beam of the flashlight she was shining for him while he worked.  

“You know, we haven’t seen the paladins since we got back.”  She mused.  “I wonder what they’re up to.”  

“Oh, probably training or something.”  Coran said.  “Or enjoying some well-deserved time off.  We can join them in just a tick, I’m nearly done with this….” There was a bang, the sudden noise making Allura jump, then silence.  

“Are you… alright?”  She asked, peering into the wall.

“Perfectly fine!  Just putting the pipe into place, and…” there was a cranking sound, then a squeak.  “And that should do it!”  Coran crawled out of the wall panel.  “That should stop the particle barrier from failing quite so often.”  

“That’s a relief.”  Allura said, turning off the flashlight.

“Should we go see what the paladins are up to?”  Coran asked, dusting his hands off.  

“Yes, let’s.”  Allura smiled.  

They heard the paladins before they could see them; they were laughing and shouting from the kitchen.  Rather than sitting at the table, though, they were spread out in a circle on the floor, a few of them with cushions they had taken from the dining chairs, and they had a plethora of bottles and cups scattered around them.  In the center of their circle was a large cup with a few inches of murky liquid in it, the cup surrounded by a ring of cards.  They were using Altean cards, but the game they were playing was completely unfamiliar.  As they watched, Hunk drew a card and loudly exclaimed “six is dicks!” and everyone except Pidge took a sip of their drinks. 

Pidge, sitting next to Hunk, drew a card and slapped it down.  “Ten, categories!”  They paused, tapping their half-empty bottle against their lips in thought.  “Alien races that we’ve encountered.  Altean!”

“Arusian!”  Shiro said.

“Galra!”  Keith said.

“Uh…” Lance looked panicked.  “...Plaxum!”

“Alien  _ races _ , not alien  _ individuals _ !”  Hunk told him.  “Plaxum was one of those mermaid-type people!”

“Hunk, why ya gotta rat me out like that?”  Lance groused, taking a sip of his drink.

Shiro reached forward and started to draw a card that was covering two barely-touching cards underneath, then seemed to think better of it and reached for a different card.  Pidge looked disappointed.  “Damn, I thought you were gonna break the circle.” 

“There is no way I’m taking chances with that king’s cup.”  Shiro laid down the three card and took a sip of his own sangria.  “I’ve seen what went into that disastrous cocktail.” 

Keith snorted.  “Cocktail.”  

“Oh grow up.”  Lance nudged him with his elbow.  “Your turn.”

Keith lurched forward and nearly fell flat on his face as he reached for a card.  Hunk handed him a water pouch, telling him to take a break from the moonshine a bit.  “I don’t need that, I’m fine.  I’m  _ peachy _ keen.”  He giggled and picked up a card, frowning down at it in concentration.  “What’d we decide for fives again?”  

“House rule.”  Pidge said.  “Confession.”  

Keith tilted his head, considering it for a few moments.  Suddenly he swiveled to the left and pointed at Lance with the hand that was holding his glass, making the drink slosh out of the cup a little.  “You…  You’re not the worst pilot I’ve ever seen, and I feel bad cuz I said tha’ when we met.  You’re actually… pretty damn good.”  Keith paused, and Lance beamed at him.  Keith swayed a little.  “...also I think I’m gonna throw up.” 

Hunk swiftly grabbed the mixing bowl of cut-up fruit in front of him, dumped the fruit into an empty cup, and stuck the bowl under Keith just moments before he upended the contents of his stomach into it.

“Ugh, gross…” Pidge wrinkled their nose and made a face.

“That’s why we told you to take it easy and drink some water, dumbass.”  Lance patted his back.  Shiro quietly reached over to grab the glass of moonshine and switch it out with a water pouch, setting the glass on his other side.  

“How could moonshine do this to me?  I love the moon…” Keith emerged from the bowl, his face pale. 

“Just  _ what  _ is going on here?”  The paladins all looked up to find the two Alteans in the doorway, both of them looking bewildered.  

“Heyyy guys, join the party!”  Pidge lifted their drink, giggling.  

“Yeah, you guys want to join?”  Hunk asked.  “We’ve got two kinds of beer left--”

“One of them is shitty though,” Lance added.  

“And there’s a bit of sangria left too,” Hunk went on.

“I’ve never heard of these beverages.”  Allura looked confused.  She wrinkled her nose, frowning.  “And what is that awful smell?  It smells like some sort of cleaning liquid...”  

“Keith puked.”  Pidge pointed to the red paladin accusingly.  

“Keith’s a  _ lightweight _ .”  Lance added.  “Mister ‘ _ oh I can hold my liquor, watch me chug this whole drink _ ’...”

“Shush. your. face.”  Keith told him, pushing a finger to the corner of Lance’s lips.  

Coran, meanwhile, had taken out a small handheld scanner and had it aimed at Keith.  “Good heavens, no wonder you got sick!  Your blood is full of a toxin that is incompatible with human bodies!”  He moved the scanner around, pointing it at all of them.  “Oh my!  You’ve all got the same problem to varying degrees!”  He turned to Allura.  “They must have gotten into some kind of poison!”

“Oh no,” Allura looked worried.  “Did we forget to label a cleaning agent?  I thought we removed everything dangerous from the kitchen?”

“Evidently not.”  Coran frowned, tapping the scanner.  “Oh dear, this toxin seems to have some very unpleasant effects on human bodies.  Slurred speech, drowsiness, headaches, distorted vision and hearing… not to mention disastrous long-term effects on blood, the brain, and several vital organs!”

“We should get them all into healing pods immediately.”  Allura said decisively.  “Come, paladins, or if you cannot walk, we will bring a stretcher from the infirmary.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hang on,” Hunk waved his hands.  “No one has been poisoned, they’re all just drunk.”

“I beg to diff’rence.”  Pidge piped up.  “I’m fine.”  

“Overruled.”  Shiro told them, taking the mostly-empty pink bottle away from them and handing them another water pouch.  

“They’ve drunk a poison?”  Allura asked.  

“No, no, no poison at all.”  Hunk said.  “They’re just  _ drunk _ .  On alcohol.”  He held up another one of the unopened bottles of amber liquid that were sitting in the cardboard box.  “See?  It’s just alcohol.  People drink it because it’s fun.  Well, most people; I don’t think it’s all that great but I like mixing drinks.”

Coran took the proffered bottle and examined it.  The front read ‘Corona Light’.  Wasn’t Corona a constellation?  What did stars have to do with poisons?  He turned the bottle over and saw that the store that had sold it had stuck a label to the back with the ingredients written in Common-Alien.  He frowned as he read through them.  “For goodness sake, we really should get you all in healing pods… A number of these ingredients are toxic to human bodies!”  

“If you drink a lot every day, sure,” Shiro said.  “But this is just a one time thing.  We’re just letting loose a little and having a good time.”

“Exactly how does poisoning yourselves equate to having a good time?”  Allura asked as Pidge flipped over another card.  

“I asked myself that every day in high school.”  Hunk sighed.  Pidge raised both hands in the air.  Hunk gave them a quizzical look, but they just grinned wordlessly.  Lance peered at the card in front of them -- a seven -- and both of his hands shot up too.  

“Hang on, the game is still paused.”  Shiro told them.  

“Scared you’ll lose?”  Lance smirked.  “That cup of sangria-moonshine-beer-daiquiri-screwdriver has your name all over it.”

Shiro hesitated, then put both hands in the air.  Hunk frowned sternly and lifted his hands to point at them.  “All of you, stop that--”

“Haha!  Keith loses!”  Lance exclaimed.  Keith jumped a little, snapping back after having been zoning out.

“Oh, okay,” Keith shrugged, reaching for the cup in the center of the cards.

“Nope!  Designated sober person executive decree.”  Hunk plucked the cup up and pressed a water pouch into Keith’s hand instead.  Keith didn’t seem to notice the difference and started sucking on the straw.  

“Designated  _ sane  _ person executive decree.”  Coran added, taking the cup from Hunk.  “I don’t care what your Earthling ritualistic self-poisonings dictate, I’m confiscating this deadly concoction.”

“Con- _ coc- _ tion.”  Pidge giggled.

Keith, looking a little green in the face, stood up and staggered over to the garbage can, stuck his head in, and threw up again.  

“Unbelievable!”  Lance shook his head.  “I’m holding this night over his head forever.”

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”  Pidge said, and the two Alteans glanced at each other, wondering what the brightest star in the Lyra constellation had to do with anything, and why the green paladin seemed to think there was more than one of them.  

“Pidge is right, what happens when we drink shouldn’t affect our team dynamics at all.  No judgement.”  Shiro said.

“Guys, I’m dying…” Keith said, staggering back over to the circle.  

“You get water, carbs, and a completely unsympathetic pat on the back.”  Hunk told him, passing a small bowl of food goo over.  

Keith sat down with a groan.  Allura and Coran shared a worried look.  “The rest of you might be able to naturally work off the poison, but perhaps we should get Keith in a healing pod…” Allura mused.

“No.”  Shiro said firmly.  “He gets to deal with the hangover himself.  Maybe that will teach him to think before knocking back an entire cup of shitty sake and nearly thirty ounces of moonshine.”  

“Ooooh, burn…” Pidge snickered.  The two Alteans looked around for a source of fire but found none.              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*Disclaimer: this is a stupid amount of alcohol so do NOT drink as much as Keith does in this because it is fiction and you will die in real life. It's not that he's a lightweight, that's just an insane amount of alcohol. A jar of moonshine is not a single serving*)
> 
> I know an American who is married to a Japanese man, and when her father came to visit he tried the one-cup sake you can buy cheap in conbinis. The husband’s father saw him drinking it and took it away, saying “No. No, no, no.” He sat down with some good sake (like your-boss-brings-to-the-year-end-enkai level good) and poured him a glass, saying “THIS is sake.” For reference, that’s like someone drinking boxed wine from the gas station and thinking that’s the height of wine drinking. 
> 
> Personally I think they could all handle their alcohol pretty well. I don't think Keith would back down from a challenge, though, which could lead him toward a bad decision. But no one can handle chugging Ozeki without throwing up, tbh.


	15. Rattles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time it's hooman-to-hooman confusion, just to mix things up

Pidge frowned down at the complicated Galra code on their computer screen.  They had picked up the code the day before, but Pidge had not yet managed to crack it to figure out what it said.  They were close, though, they knew.  It was right there, just out of reach.  Maybe if they just…?

They were so engrossed in their work that they didn’t notice the door to the lounge open behind them, nor the footsteps that came closer.  They did, however, notice when something circular was placed on their head, followed by a gushing sound that reminded them of rain.  Their fingers paused over the keyboard and they looked up to find Coran standing next to them, holding something to the top of their head.  “Uh.  What…?”

“It’s in case we ever end up having another baby on board the castle-ship!”  Coran said, as if that explained anything.  “Since we’ve already had one person de-age on the ship and had that incident with the alien crown prince, I figured it’s a good thing to have around, just in case.”  

Pidge tipped their head back and felt whatever was on their head slide along their hair to their forehead until they could see it by looking up.  It looked like two of the beer cans from that drink variety pack Lance had bought, the two cans taped together.  “Not sure how Altean babies are, but I think giving alcohol to children is generally frowned-upon.”  

“Oh no, this is just water inside.”  Coran turned the cans over, and the rushing sound of rain started up again as water fell from one can to the other.  

“Oh.  Like a rain stick?”  Pidge was still confused.  What did rain sticks have to do with babies?

“It’s a rattle.”  Coran said.  

“Actually, rattles are smaller and make a difference sound.”  Pidge said, just as the door opened again and Lance and Hunk walked in.  “That’s just a rain stick.”

“Whatcha guys doing?”  Lance asked.

“I made this, in case we ever end up with another baby on board the ship.”  Coran explained, holding the beer can to the top of Lance’s head.  “The sound is soothing and has a calming effect on babies.”  

“Neat.  Like a rattle?”  Lance asked, looking cross-eyed up at it.  

“Exactly.”  Coran said.

“Hang on, wait,” Pidge turned around on the couch to look at them.  “Coran I can understand, but how do you think that’s a rattle?  Clearly it’s a rain stick.”

“A rain stick?”  Hunk tilted his head, looking confused.  

“Yeah, like a stick, about this wide,” Pidge made a circle with their hands, about three inches across.  “And about a foot long, made of wood -- usually cactus -- with beads inside that when they fall sound like rain.  You can buy them at like aquariums and zoos and nature centers, or hippie stores.”  

“But the sound has the same effect as a rattle.”  Lance pointed out, as Coran turned the beer cans over and put it on top of Hunk’s head.  “They both calm babies down.”  

Pidge blinked.  “Rattles have an effect on babies?”  

“Yeah,” Hunk added.  “What did you think they did?”

“I genuinely had no idea why people gave babies rattles.”  Pidge admitted.  “I just sort of assumed they were sort of to keep track of where they went, like a bell on a cat’s collar.”  

“You  _ what _ ?” Hunk stared at them, bemused.

“You know, like,” Pidge lifted a hand and shook it.  “ _ Rattle rattle rattle, _ oh no, Timmy, don’t go near the stove!”

Lance burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.  “Pidge, no!  The sound is soothing for babies.”  

“Something that is consistent across many alien species, apparently.”  Coran said.

“What?!”  Pidge turned to Hunk.  “Did  _ you  _ know that, too?”

“Well, it kinda makes sense.”  Hunk said.  “People have been giving rattles to babies for centuries, and apparently multiple planets do it.  That means there’s gotta be a reason for it.”  

Pidge stared at the group of them.  “Well, I guess you learn something new every day.”  They frowned thoughtfully for a few moments.  “So rain sticks are just rattles?  Not a way to teach children about river erosion?”

The rest of them stared at Pidge, taken aback.  “Sorry, what was that?”  Coran asked.

“The rain sticks,” Pidge held out their hands about a foot apart and mimed flipping something over.  “The cactus with the beads in it.  They teach children about river flow.  You know, like streams with vegetation have a slower flow than streams without, which directly affects the rate soil is carried downstream and influences erosion patterns.  Hence the beads in the cactus tube.  The more porous the cacti, the quicker the beads fall.  That’s what my dad told us when we were kids.”

“Pidge, no offense, but I think that speaks more about how much of a nerd your father is than the child-rearing practices of multiple planets over thousands of years.”  Hunk said.

Pidge looked stunned.  “...My life is a lie.”  They said finally.  Lance burst out laughing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOTALLY ISN’T BASED ON AN ACTUAL REVELATION THAT HAPPENED IN A GROUP TEXT. APPARENTLY I WAS JUST A LITTLE NATURE NERD AS A KID. 
> 
> Now that I think about it, though, I could have been combining two separate frequently occurring memories; the sound of the streamflow and erosion sign in the swamp house at the zoo (it was a board with two streams on it, one with pegs and one without, and you flipped the board over and could see how river flow worked as the beads fell through it) plus the fact that the aforementioned swamp house at the zoo included a small gift shop with rain sticks, which sounded EXACTLY the same as the river flow board. And since I insisted on dragging my family through the swamp house literally every time we went to that zoo, that was a fairly consistent thing throughout my childhood.


	16. Death

“Who’s my favorite Pigeon in the whole wide universe?”  Lance said in a sing-song voice, hugging Pidge’s shoulders from behind.

“Thought I told you to stop calling me a pigeon.”  Pidge said flatly, not even looking up from the star chart they were studying with Allura, Coran, and Shiro.  

“Then who’s my favorite Pidge in the whole wide universe?”  Lance went on.  “The brightest star in my galaxy, a shining beacon of hope in the darkness, like a shooting star, a comet in the night--”

“What do you want?”  Pidge sighed.

“To borrow your laptop.”

“Heck no.”  Pidge said bluntly.  

“But my phone died.”  Lance pouted.  Allura and Coran looked up, blinking, but the other two humans hardly reacted.

“Tough toodles, you can’t borrow my laptop.”  Pidge said.

“My phone is  _ dead _ ,” Lance placed the back of his hand on his forehead dramatically.  “I even had it on airplane mode to keep it alive for longer and it  _ died _ .  Right in the middle of playing a good song, too.  Please, Pidge, let me borrow one little USB port to bring my poor phone back to life.”

“Nikola’s busy, I’m using him to install anti-Galra virus software onto the Castle’s mainframe.”  Pidge said.  “You can use him when that’s done.”  

“Okay, but I  _ can  _ use it?”  Lance pressed. 

“Under my strict supervision.”  Pidge told him.  “You’re not digging your little paws through my baby.”

“I just need some electricity to bring my poor little phone back to life.”  Lance said.  “Apparently Earth electronics don’t get along well with Balmera energy crystals.  I tried to plug it in and the screen went all haywire and then it died.”

“Yeah, turns out Balmera crystals just kill electronics without a converter.”  Shiro said.  “Hunk whipped one up for his phone and Pidge’s laptop.”  

“Poor Nikola was dead after a few days of getting here.”  Pidge sighed.  “And  _ that  _ was a tragedy.  Unlike your phone.”  

“The death of any creature is a tragedy.”  Allura said, a bit confused.  “I’m surprised; humans seem more callous than I originally thought you were.”

The three humans exchanged a look between them.  “You know we’re not talking about actual death, right?”  Shiro asked her.  

Allura blinked.  “But… you said someone died, someone named Nikola?”  

“That’s what I named my laptop.”  Pidge said.

“Because they’re a  _ nerd _ .”  Lance teased.

“Your phone can stay dead, then.”

“Gasp!  You wouldn’t!”  

“We use the word ‘die’ for living creatures like people and animals, but also for some inanimate things like electronics.”  Shiro explained to the Alteans.  

“Really?”  Coran tapped the pen he was holding against his chin thoughtfully.  “So…” he dropped the pen from his fingers and it fell to the floor with a small clatter.  “Is this pen dead, now?”  Coran asked.

“No, just for electronics.”  Lance said.  “Like computers, and phones, and cars, and anything that runs on a source of energy.  If it runs out of energy, it might be otherwise fine, but because it can’t turn on, we say it’s dead.”  

Coran and Allura shared a look between them.  Allura cleared her throat.  “Then, I have a bit of a personal question…”

“Princess, no, we’ve discussed this,” Coran whispered.  “It would be rude!”  

“We won’t think it’s rude,” Shiro said.  

“Yeah, hit us.”  Lance added.  The two Alteans looked alarmed at his words.  “I mean, ask us.”  

“Is… well… is Rover sentient?”  Allura asked hesitantly.  Coran covered his eyes with his hands, as though too ashamed to look at the paladins while Allura quickly went on.  “At first, we were confused why you had named what looked like a surveillance drone, and then you all were talking to it -- him?  Them? -- so we thought maybe you had installed some sort of AI, and this whole time, frankly, we haven’t sure what the concensus was on Rover’s sentience.  Should we be inviting Rover to join us for meals?  Does it need sleeping quarters?”

“Ah, Rover isn’t really sentient…” Pidge rubbed the back of their neck while Lance hid a laugh in the palm of his hand.  “There is, somewhat, a form of AI grafted into the program to understand speech and follow commands, but technically it’s a machine.  Any time it dies -- the battery gets too low -- I just have to recharge it and it’s fine.”

“So… it’s not actually alive?”  Allura asked.  

“Nope.”  Shiro chuckled.  “We humans just like to name things, even inanimate objects.”

“My car’s name is Milford.”  Lance’s hand shot up in the air.  “Because it’s a Ford.  Get it?”

“Get out.”  Pidge groaned.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Lance's phone, and Allura & Coran's thinking that Rover was a sentient member of the team. Everyone loves their little robot mascot anyway, though. That bit came from SunshineAndRainbow's comment on one of the other chapters, by the way!


	17. Age

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Age is just a number, and Keith is just a little sh*t.
> 
> Suggested by yoitsmethememer in the comments!
> 
> *EDIT* I was wrong on my math and have now changed the numbers. Thank you to people who let me know!

Shiro frowned at the mirror as he ran a comb through his hair.  The sides and undercut were starting to get long again.  He wondered if he could find some clippers somewhere on the castle-ship.  Presumably, Coran had to have some way of staying clean-shaven aside from his moustache.  Or maybe Alteans didn’t need to shave.  After all, they could change their height and appearance at will, so he could only assume they could do the same with their hair.  Shiro sighed a little; he wished humans were capable of shape-shifting like Alteans.  If he could do that, he would be able to get rid of this weird flop of white hair on the crown of his head.  He had no idea how it had happened, but he suspected the druids had something to do with it.  The arm, he could understand, somewhat, but why had they changed one section of his hair to a different color?  He ran the comb through it, lips pinching into a frown as he parted the hair to look at the roots.  It was a little longer, which meant it was still growing, but it wasn’t growing back black, which confused him.  If the the roots had been damaged, wouldn’t it have stopped growing?  Did it have something to do with quintessence, that seemingly-magic life-force that was beyond what human science could describe?  

Over his reflection’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Lance creeping toward Keith with a rolled up towel in his hands and a smirk on his face.  Shiro was about to speak up, when Keith, without even looking at Lance, spoke up himself.  “Snap that towel at me and I’ll snap your neck.”  Keith told him, pulling on his shirt.  

“Jeez, a little over the top, don’t you think?”  Lance unrolled the towel as he shot a disgruntled look in Keith’s direction.  

“You’re the one who’s acting like a middle-schooler in a locker room.”  Keith said.  “Just get dressed and be done with it.”

“I’m glad I never had to deal with towel snapping in gym class.”  Pidge said, heading for the changing rooms with an armful of clothing.  “Just copious amounts of flowery body-sprays.”

“Locker room initiation!”  Lance exclaimed, rolling the towel up again.  Shiro’s left hand snapped out and grabbed Lance’s wrist to stop him.  Pidge stuck their middle finger up at Lance as they disappeared around a corner.  Lance pouted and headed back to his locker.  “You guys are no fun.”  

Shiro snorted in amusement and reached for his own shirt.  Once he was dressed, he shook his head and frowned at the flop of white that fell over his forehead.  It was starting to get into his eyes.  He was going to need to trim that a bit, too.

Lance slid up next to him, dressed as well, and leaned on his shoulder.  “You know, your hair is perfectly bleached.”  

Shiro eyed it in the mirror.  “I’m not sure ‘bleached’ is what happened to it.”

“Same result, though.”  Lance said.  “It’s white.”  

Shiro made a noncommittal hum.  “That it is.”  He didn’t really like it.  True, there had been a brief period back in early high school where he had wanted to dye his hair, but when he looked into all the steps he would have to take to bleach black hair light enough and maintain the color, it had seemed like too much effort and he settled for just piercing his ears -- now closed up due to his time at the Garrison -- and learned how to skateboard.  He liked his black hair, and it matched the majority of his wardrobe.  There was also the fact that he didn’t know  _ what  _ exactly had caused one section of his hair to turn white, but given that it had happened during his time with the Galra, he was pretty sure it wasn’t pleasant.  And now he was stuck with this weird flop of white, which he personally thought was a little too on-the-nose, given his name.  

Shiro realized Lance was still watching him in the mirror, and raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question, unsure what he was getting at.  

“Ever thought of dying it?”  Lance asked, finally saying it.    

“Can’t say I have.”  Shiro said carefully.  He thought he heard Keith snort in amusement as he closed his locker behind him. 

“I think it’d look cool.”  Lance went on.  “And I bet I can find some stuff to do it with, if you’re interested.  My sister made me help her do her dye-jobs for years, so I know how to.”  

“I vote yes to dying Shiro’s hair.”  Pidge said, coming back around the corner fully dressed. 

“We’re not  _ voting  _ on it, it’s  _ my hair _ …” Shiro shook his head fondly, amused at them all.  

“But it would look so cool!”  Hunk added.  “And you wouldn’t have to bleach that part at all!”

Shiro hesitated, eyeing his hair in the mirror.  “Could we dye it black?”

“Well, sure,” Lance looked a little disappointed.  “But that’s kinda boring.  How about purple?  Since that’s kinda the Black Lion’s color.”

“Not a big fan of purple.”  Shiro said flatly, closing his locker.  Harsh magenta lights flooding the steely purple-gray walls of the gladiator ring, cruel violet faces with glowing yellow eyes and a flash of white fangs, the scratchy plum-colored fabric of the prison jumpsuit growing even darker with blood, the vast emptiness of the lilac-starred astral plane where Zarkon had closed his hand -- hard and cold like amethyst stones -- around his throat...  He had too many bad memories associated with purple.

“Ooh, what about a gradient?”  Hunk made a motion from the crown of his head to his forehead.  “Like black up here, and fading to white down at the tip.  Or a rainbow!”

“Gaaaaay…” Pidge said.  “You know what would look good?  Lime green.”

“That would not look good at all.”  Shiro snorted as they all left the locker room.  

“Okay, so back to that gradient idea…” Hunk said.

“I’ll either dye it black or just leave it white.”  Shiro told them.  “Leaning more toward the second option, since I don’t really feel like maintaining it on top of all of our other duties.”  He pressed his hand to the sensor outside the bridge’s door and opened it.  Allura and Coran were already there, both of them puzzling over a floating ball of electricity that they had been given a couple of days ago by some aliens whose planet they had freed.  

“Color would look cooler.”  Lance huffed, crossing his arms.

“I can worry about looking cool after this war is over.”  Shiro said.  “At this point, you’re all going to turn the rest of my hair white.”  

Allura and Coran looked up, confused.  “How would they turn your hair white?”  

Shiro was about to answer when he noticed Lance about to poke the ball of electricity.  His hand reached out and grabbed the back of his jacket, pulling him away before he could electrocute himself.  “Like that.”  Shiro said flatly.

“Hey!”

“Shiro’s right, touching this would fry your neural processors to a crisp.”  Coran said.  “Although I fail to see how that would affect Shiro’s appearance.”

“It’s an expression.”  Hunk said.  “Stress ages the human body faster, so we joke that stressing each other out can turn one’s hair white prematurely.”  

Allura cocked her head.  “White hair has to do with age?”  She asked.

“For humans.”  Keith nodded.  “I’m guessing not with Alteans.”  He added, glancing between Allura’s silver hair and Coran’s strawberry-orange hair.

“Why would your hair color change with age, though?”  Allura asked.

“That’s just what the human body does.”  Pidge shrugged.  “As you age, your body breaks down.  Hair turns gray or white, skin gets wrinkles, and sometimes bones deteriorate a little or organs stop working as well.”

“So you’re saying Alteans’ appearances  _ don’t  _ change with age?”  Hunk asked.

“Well, we get taller, up to a certain point.”  Allura said thoughtfully.  “But other than that, no…” 

“Goodness, then Shiro’s body has already begun to break down?”  Coran looked worried.  “How old are you?”

Shiro spared a glare at Lance and Pidge -- who were giggling and whispering something about a ‘space grandpa’ -- and opened his mouth to reply.

“He’s four.”  Keith said, cutting him off.  

The rest of them stared, even the other paladins.  Shiro narrowed his eyes at the betrayal.  Keith knew full and well what this would lead to.

“But… I thought Earthling four year-olds were much smaller…”  Allura said.  She gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.  “Oh good heavens, we can’t let a child fight in this war!  You should have said something, Shiro; we assumed you were older, given your physical appearance and stature!”

“Don’t listen to Keith,” Shiro shook his head.  “I’m nineteen.”

“But you’ve only had four birthdays.”  Keith pointed out, examining his fingerless gloves instead of meeting Shiro’s eyes.  

“But I’ve been alive for nineteen years.”  Shiro bit out pointedly, trying to use his mind to get Keith to stop talking.

“Sure, four year-old.”  

“Oh my god, are you a leap baby?!”  Lance asked, a grin spreading over his face.  “You’re four!  That’s adorable!”

“I’m not the youngest after all!”  Pidge punched the air victoriously.  

“Our fearless leader is practically a toddler!”  Hunk added.  Shiro sighed; was it possible to  _ feel  _ one’s hand turning gray?     

“Can we get one of those little ‘baby on board’ stickers and put it on the castle-ship?”  Lance asked excitedly, drawing a diamond-shape in the air.  

“No.”  Shiro said flatly.  

“Don’t worry, kids go through that stage where they say ‘no’ to everything.”  Keith smirked.  

“Wait, there’s another baby?!”  Coran looked around for a moment, then pulled out the beer cans taped together, holding it up.  “Good thing I have this!” 

“I’m not--”

“Here you go, nice and relaxing,” Coran said, pressing one end of the cans to the top of Shiro’s head.  “Maybe this will help with the stress.”

Shiro just sighed and buried his face in his hands as the water gushed from one end of the can to the other.  

“Should we have someone else pilot the Black Lion?”  Allura whispered, looking worried.  “Perhaps I could…”

“I’m fine.  I am fully capable of flying the Black Lion.”  Shiro said, lifting his head up.  “I have been alive, on the planet Earth, for nineteen full revolutions of the planet around the sun.  It has just only been my birthday four times.”  

“But how can that be?”  Allura asked.  “I thought a ‘year’ was the Earthling word for one revolution around your sun.”

“He’s a leap baby,” Lance said, throwing an arm around Shiro’s shoulders.  “Meaning he was born on February 29th, or leap day.”

“Because the Earth’s seasons and astronomical events don’t fit neatly within one calendar year, we insert one extra day to the month of February every four years -- with some exceptions -- to correct for the seasonal drift that would take place without it.”  Pidge explained.  

“So if someone is born on February 29th of one year, they likely wouldn’t be able to celebrate their birthday on the correct day of the next four years.”  Hunk added.  

“Then we just celebrate it on February 28th or March 1st.”  Shiro said.  “So I  _ am  _ nineteen years old.”  

“That’s not what the calendar says, little four year-old,”  Lance ruffled his hair.  

“I’ve had four  _ birthdays _ , I’m not four  _ years old _ ,” Shiro crossed his arms.  “And it's going to be five birthdays soon.”  

“Can we have a birthday party?”  Pidge asked, bouncing up and down.  “With cake and stuff?”  

“Guys…”

“No, that’s a good point.”  Keith said.  “Your birthdays are so rare, so each one should be special.”

“But if we have it now, we don't even know what calendar month it is on Earth, so it probably won't be on February 29th,” Shiro pointed out.  “Which seems to be your only criteria for qualifying a birthday as adding a year of age, so the point is moot.”  

“Speaking of moo, I bet we can get cream from Kaltenecker to make the cake.”  Hunk mused, while Pidge shouted “or ice cream!”

“Moo **_t_ ** .”  Shiro corrected.  

“Tomay-to, tomah-to.”  Lance flapped a hand at him.  “Four years old, nineteen years old.  Same difference, in this case.”  

“So… a four-but-nineteen year-old can pilot the Black Lion safely?”  Allura checked.  

“Absolutely.”  Shiro nodded.  “Trust me, I’ve got more military experience and flying experience than any of them.”

“By  _ one year _ ,” Keith reminded him.  “Careful, Shiro, that hair’s not going to be enough to cover your head if it gets any bigger.”

“Oh, then I suppose I should start acting more like Commander Iverson?”  Shiro said flatly.  “Because you can start running laps, in that case.”  

Hunk let out an “ _ eeep _ !” and hid behind Lance and Pidge.  

“You are the least fun four year-old I have ever met.”  Lance frowned.  

Yep, Shiro was pretty sure he could  _ feel  _ his hair going gray already.


	18. Teambuilding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time machine time! *jazz fingers* This one takes place back during the early days of their training, probably back on Arus.
> 
> By the way, thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments! There are so many lovely comments that I can scarcely keep up, so just let me say here thank you guys so much!

It had not been a good morning.

The paladins seemed to be on-edge all morning and forming Voltron was even harder than ever.  It didn’t help that Allura kept throwing blasters at them to try and force their survival instincts into forming Voltron in the heat of ‘battle’.  As the morning went on and they made little progress, everyone was getting more and more frustrated with themselves and their teammates, not to mention tired from the exercise, with headaches from trying to keep their consciousness together, and hungry as lunch drew nearer.  By the time they broke for lunch, tempers were short and they were all snapping at each other for little reason.  

Hunk made the mistake of quietly lamenting the fact that all they had to eat was the green food goo and wondering when they could go home, which made Pidge snap that no one was going home and he should stop thinking of only himself, which made Keith scoff at them and say they weren’t any better since they were only here to find their family, which made Pidge shoot back something about at least  _ having _ a family, which made Lance jump in saying they  _ all  _ had families and people they cared about… Meanwhile Shiro was quiet, finishing his food goo as quickly as possible before slipping away, unnoticed by the bickering paladins.  The rest of the lunch passed in stony silence punctuated with glares and pointed comments.  

After they all finished eating, they finally noticed Shiro’s absence.  Figuring he must have gone to the training deck already, they all made their way up there, albeit with much elbowing each other and intentionally stepping on each other’s heels.  The group rounded the corner to the training deck entrance and stopped in their tracks.  Shiro was there, tying a few pieces of string across the doorway at criss-crossing angles.  

“Uh, what are you doing?”  Hunk asked.

“Making a spiderweb.”  Shiro said simply, tying the last end of the string to the door before hopping off the stool.  

“...Okay, so the head of Voltron has lost his marbles.  That’s cool.”  Lance said.  Keith shot him a filthy glare.  

“I have not.  I’m apparently the only sane person on this team right now.”  Shiro said acidly.  He paused and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean that.  You’re all valued members of this team and everyone is perfectly sane.”  He sighed and straightened up.  “We’re going to do team-building activities until we’re able to work well enough with each other to be able to form Voltron at a moment’s notice.”

“What, like trust falls?”  Pidge said flatly, not looking impressed.  

“That’s on the agenda.”  Shiro said.  “First, though, everyone needs to get through this door.  Without touching the strings, at all.”  

“Easy,” Pidge ducked down low and slipped between two ropes, going through a space that Shiro had honestly been counting on no one getting through.  Once on the other side, they regarded them all with a bland look and spread their arms out.  “Ta-freaking-da.  Can I go, now?”

“We  _ all  _ need to get through.”  Shiro said.  

“Um, Shiro,” Hunk raised a hand, looking uneasy.  “I can’t fit through any of those spaces…”

“What about the one at the top?”  Shiro had left it there intentionally.  

Hunk blanched.  “Yeah, no, I can’t jump that high.”  

“We could lift you.”  Keith mused, eyeing the web.  

“Lift  _ me _ ?”

“It’s not impossible.”  Keith said.  “Get a few people on either side, and it should be fine.”  

“Alright, so send the next person through.”  Pidge said.  

“I’ll go.”  Lance walked up to one of the triangular gaps.  “Me and Keith are probably about the same weight, and my height can make up for Pidge’s.”

“ _ Hey! _ ”  

“No jabbing at teammates, Lance.”  Shiro told him.  

“Right, sorry.”  Lance apologized.  He eyed the gap between the strings for a moment, then ducked his head and carefully worked his body through.  He wobbled on one foot for a moment, off-balance, then Pidge caught his hand and steadied him.  He made it through without touching the strings. 

“Now Hunk.”  Shiro said.  

“This is not going to work.”  Hunk muttered, stepping forward.  

“Yes it will.  Do a trust fall, while we’re at it.”  Shiro told him, opening his arms.  Hunk sighed and turned around, hesitating for a few moments before falling backwards with a yelp.  Shiro caught him easily, and supported his weight while Keith picked up his legs.  

“This is a terrible idea.”  Hunk muttered, wobbling only a bit while they raised him higher.  “Terrible, terrible idea.”

“Arms above your head, like Superman.”  Pidge directed from somewhere behind him.  He did so, raising his arms straight back.  Closing his eyes, he pressed his palms together like he was trying to dive.  

“Alright, steady now…” Shiro said, and he and Keith slowly walked him closer to the web.  Lance grabbed his hands on the other side, then his head and shoulders as Shiro and Keith carefully moved down his body.  Hunk let out a squeak when a pair of hands landed on his backside.  

“Sorry for grabbing your butt, that was me,” Lance apologized.  

“That’s fine, just please don’t drop me.”  Hunk said quickly, nerves making his voice sound higher than usual.

“We’ve got you, calm down.”  Pidge grunted, planting their feet and holding up his shoulders.  

“Point your toes.”  Keith directed, and Hunk did so.  “Steady… little bit more…” 

A few more steps, and Hunk’s feet were clear of the strings.  Lance squatted down with Hunk’s legs while Pidge shoved against his shoulders, and the two of them set him on his feet.  

“Ha!  I can’t believe that worked!”  Hunk beamed.  “Pidge, you are  _ way  _ stronger than you look!”  

“You think my last name is  _ Gun _ derson for nothing?”  Pidge smirked, flexing their biceps.  

“Three down, two to go.”  Shiro smiled.  

“We’re halfway there.”  Keith added, studying the web for what their next move should be.  

Lance cast a quick look at Hunk, then started singing.  “ _ Woah, we’re halfway there,  _ **_WOAH-OH, livin’ on a_ ** \---”

“Nope, not doing that.”  Shiro reached a hand through the web to clap a hand over Lance’s mouth.

Lance rolled his eyes and pried Shiro’s hand away from his mouth.  “Alright, fearless leader, let’s see you get through.”  

Shiro tilted his head thoughtfully, sizing up one of the waist-high gaps that was not quite as big as the one they had put Hunk through, but might work for Shiro.  He carefully put a leg through, then started to duck and work his torso through.  

“Hang on,” Pidge’s voice and a hand on his backside made him pause.  “Your butt is like half an inch away from hitting the string.  And your head isn’t much better.”  Shiro tucked his chin to his chest, but Pidge shook their head and gave him a small push back.  “You’re not gonna fit, sorry.”  

“He thicc.”  Lance quipped.  

“Lance, every time you say a meme, you have to run a lap.”  Shiro sighed, backing up.  

“Wait, you know what memes are?!”

“I think I can lift you through, then crawl through after you.”  Keith mused, ignoring Lance.  

“Let’s try it.”  Shiro nodded.  He put an arm around Keith’s shoulders, and when he got a nod from Keith, jumped a bit.  Keith caught him behind the legs and back.  Shiro looked down.  “I don’t think a princess-carry is going to work.”

“Well, it would help if you’d stiffen your body as much as you can.”  Keith pointed out, sounding amused.  

“Right.”  Shiro tried to straighten his body out as much as he could, but it was still difficult and made his core muscles burn.

“I’ve got an idea.”  Pidge laid down on their back and slid their top half under the net, stretching their arms up.  “Give me his head and shoulders.”  

With Pidge’s hands on his shoulders and Keith holding his legs and the small of his back, they walked Shiro through the gap, Hunk and Lance getting him on the other side. 

“This is distinctly more butt-touching than I remember from summer camp.”  Pidge commented, hands moving down the backs of Shiro’s thighs as the others walked him through.  

“You know what they say, you’re not real friends until you’ve touched each other’s butts.”  Lance shrugged, setting Shiro upright.  

“Weren’t you and Hunk friends before this?”  Keith asked.  

“Yeah.”  Lance poked the yellow paladin in the backside, making him squeak.  “Your point?”  

Keith snorted and ducked through the gap they had just put Shiro through, taking Hunk’s hand for balance and tucking his head lower when Pidge tapped on his hair.  Careful not to let his other leg touch the strings, he hopped through until he could set his foot down on the other side.  

“We did it.”  Shiro smiled.  “Good job, everyone.”  

The paladins all beamed at each other, then the sound of clapping broke out from the hallway and they turned to find the two Alteans watching them all, grinning proudly.  “Marvelous!  You’re working together!”

“And we didn’t have to shoot at you to do it!”  Coran added.  “Ingenious!  How did you come up with this practice?”

“It’s a team-building activity.”  Shiro explained.  “They’re popular at summer camps and company retreats.  Commander Holt made me and Matt do a bunch of them with him before the Kerberos mission, so I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve.”

“Ah, I understand.”  Allura nodded.  “Like the invisible maze, and guarding each other’s backs.”  

“Exactly, but without any danger.”  Shiro nodded.  

“Oh, nonsense, you can’t learn without a little bit of danger!”  Coran waved a hand carelessly. 

“Yeah, I vote Shiro’s way over the invisible maze.”  Lance said, crossing his arms.  “Personally, I learn better when I’m  _ not  _ being electrocuted.”  

“Well, you are all human,” Allura mused.  “Perhaps human methods would be more beneficial to you.  May we observe your ‘team-building activities’?”  

“Sure.”  Shiro picked up a nearby stack of slips of paper with things like  _ fishing pole, flare gun, knife, compass,  _ and such written on them.  “Next up is Shipwreck, where we can only take five items of the twenty.  You guys are welcome to watch or even join in, but the catch is that first, you have to get through that web like we did.”

“Intriguing!”  Coran beamed.  “Let’s try it, Princess!”

“Indeed!”  Allura nodded, already examining the web.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My middle school made us do a weekend of team-building activities called BLT: Bulldog Leadership Training (our mascot was a bulldog). To this day the only things I remember about it are grass-stains on EVERYTHING, visiting a cemetery featuring a headstone with a birth date but no death date, a donkey named Xander Dofalopagis, and the fact that we didn’t actually get to eat any BLTs (biggest disappointment, tbh). And of course, the spiderweb teambuilding thing.
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone leaving comments and I'm sorry if I can't get around to answering every one of them. It's so sweet that there are so many people that like this fic (^.^) Thank you for reading!


	19. Interesting food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Alteans discover that their paladins will eat just about anything that reminds them of their home planet.
> 
> (Just a short, silly thing. I've been busy)

Battling Galra troops and robeasts and liberating planets was part of the job description for Voltron.  They were all fully aware of that, when they signed on (or, more accurately, when they were told they were going to do it after being shot out into space by a giant mechanical lion that they had discovered not ten minutes prior in a cave… did it count as coercion if they agreed with the result in the end?)  One thing they hadn’t taken into account was all the other parts that came with building an alliance.  Trade deals, arms negotiations, accepting gifts from liberated planets… the paladins considered themselves lucky that Allura was so well-versed in such negotiations, because they could barely even negotiate who got dibs on the first shower time slot among themselves.  It seemed, though, that even Allura had her limits, as she left the alien palace carrying a large box after the paladins had watched her go back and forth for the better part of two hours trying to politely decline the gift.  None of them knew what was in it, just that Allura really,  _ really  _ didn’t want it and the aliens really,  _ really _ wanted her to have it.  

After eventually accepting the box with a polite but tense smile, Allura led the way back to the castle-ship.  

“So what’s in the box?”  Lance asked, tapping the corner of it curiously.

“Do  _ not  _ open it.”  Allura warned him.  

“Alright, alright,” Lance held up his hands.  “But what is it?”

“Is it tech?”  Pidge asked excitedly, bouncing on their toes.  “Like the Olkari have?”

“No.”  Allura said, setting the box on the table.  “Coran, would you mind ejecting this out an airlock as soon as we leave this planetary system?”

“Of course.”  Coran nodded, eyeing the box with distaste.  

“Okay, I’m dying of curiosity.”  Hunk said.  “What is it?”

“Traditional delicacies of the Ykitnsians.”  Allura said.  “Meaning that--”

“It’s food?!”  Hunk’s face brightened and he reached for the lid of the box.

“Non-goo food!”  Pidge cheered.

“No, don’t--!”  Allura shouted just as Hunk took the lid off the box.  Immediately a foul odor filled the room, like rotting food left out in the sun for too long.  

“Oh god…” Keith clapped a hand over his nose, looking sick.

“...I have regrets.  So many regrets.”  Hunk admitted, while Pidge bent over in a coughing fit.  

“Guys, this is why we listen to the princess…” Shiro sighed, rubbing his forehead.  

“What  _ is  _ this stuff?”  Lance peered into the box, holding his nose.  

“The Ykitnsians ferment all their food.”  Allura told them flatly, the words somewhat muffled by the hand over her nose and mouth.  “Every. Single. Dish.”  

“I mean, fermented stuff isn’t all that bad, if you mix it with other things,” Hunk said thoughtfully, his voice nasally as he pinched his nose while looking through the box.  “What have we got in here?  Some meats -- not sure I trust that -- some kinda fruit thing, ooh cheese!  And… beans…?”

Shiro gasped.  “Oh my god!  Natto!”  He reached into the box and picked up the little bowl of sticky-looking brownish-green beans.  Ignoring the incredulous looks from the rest of his team, he scooped some up on his fingers and popped some of the sticky mixture into his mouth.  Chewing thoughtfully, he shrugged.  “Okay, that’s not soybeans, but whatever it is, it’s close enough.”  He scooped up another small amount onto his fingers.  “Do we have like a spoon or something?  Since I doubt we have chopsticks.”

“You’re going to  _ eat  _ it?”  Allura stared at him.  “Shiro, it’s rotten!”  

“Rotten is not the same thing as fermented.”  Hunk pointed out, picking up the chunk of cheese that was in the box.  

“I can’t believe you actually like natto.”  Pidge scrunched up their nose at Shiro.

“Oh I don’t,” Shiro said cheerfully, popping some more into his mouth.  “I hated the stuff as a kid.  My grandmother would always serve it with breakfast and tell me I wasn’t allowed to leave the table until I ate it.”  

“But you’re eating it now?”  Lance arched an eyebrow at him.

“It tastes like home.”  Shiro smiled.  

“Is this kimchi?”  Pidge picked up a bowl of something orange and sniffed it.  “Huh, I think it is.  Man, my grandpa loved kimchi.  He always had a big jar of the spiciest kind he could get sitting in the fridge when I went to their house.”  They dipped their finger in it and licked it, then shuddered.  “Ugh, disgusting.  I love it.”  

“What kind of cheese is that?”  Keith asked.

“Not sure, but it’s sharp.”  Hunk broke off a piece and handed it to him.

“Huh,” Keith nibbled on it, then nodded.  “It’s good.”

“I’m gonna be brave and try some of the meat.”  Lance said, picking up a small piece of some sort of pale meat that looked like fish.  He took a bite and immediately made a face, coughing.  “Never mind.  Pidge, gimme some of that kimchi to wash it down.”

“Does anyone else want some of the natto?”  Shiro asked, considering the small amount left.  

“No.”

“Good.”  He tipped the bowl back and finished it off.  

“I guess you could say we’re  _ natto-fan _ of it.”  Hunk grinned.  

A few people groaned while others chuckled at the joke.  

“ _ Guys _ !”  Lance picked up a bottle of dark red liquid in one hand and a bottle of brown liquid in the other.  “Wine and beer!”

“Oh not this again…” Coran sighed.  “Apparently Earthling human ritualistic self-poisoning includes foods as well as beverages.”  

“Hell yeah it does.”  Lance grinned.  “Lets pop these suckers in the fridge--”

“You are  _ not  _ putting rotten food in the communal cryo-fridge.”  Allura glared at him.  

“Let’s put it to a vote.”  Pidge suggested slyly, dipping some cheese in the kimchi.  “All in favor of keeping the thoughtful gift we received from the Ykitnsians?”

All of the paladins raised their hands.  

“And those in favor of tossing out all this perfectly good food?”  Hunk asked.  

Allura crossed her arms.  “That is just not fair.”  

“You didn’t raise your hand, princess.”  Shiro pointed out.  Allura threw up her hands in frustration and stalked off.

“Hey, where are you going?”  Lance called.

“To dig up a spare cryo-fridge so your rotten food doesn’t contaminate our good food!”  Allura replied.  

“That’s not very diplomatic of you, princess.”  Keith pointed out.  “Especially coming from someone whose favorite food is literally goo.”  

Allura poked her head back into the room only long enough to raise her middle finger at them.  

“Who taught her that?”  Shiro looked at the rest of them.

“Totally wasn’t me.”  

“ _ Pidge _ !”    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's excited for season 3?! I may not be able to watch all of it right away because this weekend is my town's big festival, so I'll probably completely stay off tumblr and maybe AO3 too, just for good measure, until I can watch all of it. And I might not be able to post anything besides this for this weekend, since I've been so busy writing pieces for a couple fandom week-long events in August, but I'll have plenty to post in a couple weeks!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	20. Milk and milk byproducts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This spawned from a conversation with my friend after we nerded out over season 3. (EDIT in wake of s4: I CANNOT BELIEVE HOW ON THE HEAD I HIT THAT NAIL. Not exact but DAMN was I cackling watching that clip! I'm psychic mwahaha)
> 
> The title is a small nod to the Welcome to Nightvale episode “Wheat and Wheat Byproducts” because I’m a dork who sucks at titles

Shiro massaged the side of his forehead with his fingertips.  “Lance, really…”

“I mean, to be fair, no one ever said we  _ couldn’t  _ get a cow.”  Lance pointed out.

“Because that didn’t seem like something that had to be said, given the fact that we’re  _ in outer space _ .”  Shiro sighed.  “And it’s not the cow itself I’m opposed to.  It’s just… where are you going to  _ keep  _ it?  Is the food goo something it can even eat?  If not, how are you going to feed it?  We can’t just let it slowly starve to death because we don’t have any grass on the ship.”

Lance leaned his chin in his hand, looking thoughtfully at Kaltenecker.  “I didn’t think of that.”  He noticed the raised eyebrow Shiro was giving him.  “Hey, it all happened so fast!  We were being chased by Paul-Vlart-Space-Mall-Cop!  Not everyone got to take a nap in their lion that day!”

“I did not take a nap,” Shiro replied, crossing his arms.  But at least  _ he  _ didn’t come back from the astral plane with a 1,500-pound livestock animal that now needed to be fed and housed.  

“Well, regardless, we still need to decide what to do with it.”  Pidge said, pushing their glasses up a bit.  

“I say we keep it.”  Hunk suggested.  “Think about it, now we’ve got a source of dairy.  Admittedly, that is the one thing I haven’t been able to find in the castle-ship’s kitchen.  And since we’re not exactly getting a lot of sunlight since we’re not anywhere near a sun on a regular basis, we’re probably all starting to develop a vitamin D deficiency.  Milk and dairy have vitamin D and calcium, so if we can milk Kaltenecker, we can improve our diets.”

“Exactly!  See?  He’s useful!”  Lance pointed to the cow, who was licking one of the blue light sconces on the wall.

“You know you can’t milk a male cow, right?”  Pidge pointed out.  “Either Kaltenecker is female or you’re just ignoring the fact it has udders.”

Lance gasped, looking affronted.  “Pidge, you of all people should know body parts don’t equal gender.”

“Alright, fine, don’t have a cow about it.”  Pidge rolled their eyes.  

“Did you just--”

“Guys, focus.”  Shiro rubbed his forehead.  “Where are we going to keep the cow?”

“We could just let him wander around.”  Hunk said.  “My friend did that with a pet rabbit, just let it hop around the house as it pleased.”

“In what way is a rabbit comparable to a full-grown cow?”  Keith asked.  

Before Hunk could answer, the doors opened and Coran walked in, frowning at a tablet and muttering something about engine schematics.  

“Hey, Coran, where would be a good place in the castle-ship to house a one-ton animal?”  Lance asked.

Coran stopped and looked up, blinking.  “Oh, you still have that… what is it?”

“A cow.”  Keith explained.  “An animal from Earth.”  

“His name is Kaltenecker and he’s our new team mascot.”  Lance patted the side of the cow’s neck.  Kaltenecker licked the side of his head, making his hair stand up in what was, quite literally, a cowlick.  

“Wouldn’t a lion be a more suitable team mascot?”  Coran asked.  Pidge opened their mouth, eyes bright and excited.

“We’re not getting a lion.”  Shiro cut them off and ignored the disappointed look the green paladin tossed his way.  “Anyway, Coran, is there anywhere we can keep a cow on the ship?”

“Hmm,” Coran thought about it, stroking his moustache.  “Well, I suppose there’s the royal stables in the basement.  It was used to hold the flaming steeds the royal family would ride when the castle-ship was docked on Altea.”

“What did those… uh, flaming steeds eat?”  Hunk asked.

“Vegetation, usually.  Grass and the like.”  Coran said.  “They liked to burn it to a crisp and then eat it.”

“And would there be a way to get more of that food?”  Shiro asked.  

“Of course.  The castle grows and generates the grass and feed itself.”  Coran said.

“Perfect!”  Lance grinned, patting Kaltenecker’s neck.  “Hear that, buddy?  Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Kaltenecker just mooed in response.

~~~~~

Whatever the Altean version of flaming horses was, they were apparently at least twice as big as a normal horse, so the stables turned out to be pretty spacious.  They moved the smallest food and water troughs -- each of them as big as a bathtub -- into the largest of the stables, about the size of a small school gymnasium, which gave Kaltnecker plenty of room to move around, and the floor of the stall was covered in a sort of fast-growing Altean grass for grazing.  Once they got the cow settled in, Pidge and Hunk immediately set to researching how to pasteurize milk and how to make dairy products from scratch.  After just a couple of days, they had several large glass bottles of milk in the cryo-refrigerator, and Hunk was experimenting mixing milk into his alien-food recipes.  

The Alteans, as it turned out, had never heard of milk before.  The closest thing Altea had to cows was the same flame-maned horses Coran had mentioned before, and the only thing they ever drank was water, sometimes with fruit juice mixed in.

“You’re quite sure this is safe?”  Allura watched doubtfully as Keith poured a glass of milk and set it on the table.  

“Safe and delicious.”  Hunk promised. 

“And about to be ice cream, a-la-high-school-chemistry-lab-style.”  Pidge added, sealing up a bag of milk and dropping it into a bigger bag of ice and a few pinches of salt.

“Do you want to try it?”  Keith asked, pushing the glass toward her.  

Allura picked up the glass, turning it in the light.  “It’s so strange that it is not clear like water.”  She mused.  She considered it a moment, then took a small sip.  “It’s thick.  And… sweet?”

“Yeah, raw milk tends to be sweeter than processed milk.”  Hunk said, whisking together some milk and what he had determined was alien-flour.  

“It’s… interesting.”  Allura said, taking another sip.  “Perhaps I won’t drink it every day, like Shiro suggested.  Altean bodies produce sufficient amounts of this vitamin D you were talking about on our own.  Perhaps occasionally I’ll try it, though.”

“Wait until you try the ice cream.”  Pidge shook the bag vigorously and turned it over and over on the table, while Allura watched with bemusement.  

~~~~~

“Oh, Shiro, have you seen Hunk anywhere?”  Allura asked, spotting the black paladin.

“I think he’s down in the stables with Lance and Kaltenecker.”  Shiro replied.  “Did you need something, Princess?”  

“My handheld tablet needs a quick energy crystal change.”  She turned over the darkened tablet in her hands and tapped the back panel, which was held shut with two small screws.  “It’s a simple matter, but Hunk seems to have commandeered most of the tools around the castle, and I need to get the small screwdriver from him.”

“He should be in the stables, or if not there, in the kitchen.”  Shiro said.  “I’ll remind him he needs to put tools back where he gets them from.”

Allura thanked him and headed down the elevator to the lower levels of the castle, below where the lions’ hangars were.  They did not currently have any Amu’ak steeds being housed there at the moment, so the distinct animal scent and sharp smoky fire smell were absent from the stables.  The Earthling ‘cow’, as the paladins called it, was significantly less flammable, but smelled a little stronger than the Amu’ak.

As she approached the stable she knew Kaltenecker occupied, she could hear Hunk and Lance speaking in low tones, as well as a strange splashing sound.  Not thinking much of it, Allura put a hand on the fire-proofed handle and slid the reinforced door open.  What she found made her stop in her tracks.  Lance was holding a lead attached to the halter someone had made for the cow, scratching the creature’s forehead with his free hand.  Hunk was seated on a stool next to the creature, hands on the pink appendages under the cow and squeezing some sort of liquid into a steel bucket underneath.  It took a moment for the pieces to click into place before she realized what, exactly, Hunk had his hands on, and when she did, her ears and cheeks turned bright red.  “What the  _ quiznak  _ are you  _ doing _ ?!”  Perhaps her language was a bit strong, but she was really quite shocked by the scene.  

The two humans looked up, puzzled.  “Milking Kaltenecker?”  Lance scratched behind the cow’s ear.  

“Milk…”  Allura blinked.  She realized the connection and recoiled in horror.  “You mean, that white substance you’ve all been drinking is  _ ooynobnak _ ?!”

The two of them shared a look.  “...Is that the Altean word for ‘milk’?”  Hunk asked her.

“It’s the Altean word for the substance that mothers feed their newborn babies.  You know, from the…” Allura gestured awkwardly at her own torso, cheeks coloring.  “I was under the impression humans were mammals as well.  Do humans not do this?” 

“Oh, yeah, we do.”  Hunk said.  “Well, biologically-female humans do.  About fifty-percent of the population.”  

“But women only do that for the first year of their baby’s life or something like that.”  Lance added.  “After that, people drink cow’s milk.”

“ _ Why _ ?”  Allura stared at them, still completely stunned.  

“It’s healthy and tastes good.  Good source of vitamins and calcium.”  Hunk said.  “Humans are actually the only creatures on Earth that drink another mammal’s milk, let alone that continue to drink milk past infancy, so I guess we’re the weird ones in this case.  It’s only due to a weird genetic mutation that people in some parts of the world even drink milk; in other parts, more people are lactose intolerant.”  

While Allura was still trying to process this rather disturbing information about humans, Kaltenecker let out a loud moo and stomped a foot, hoof clomping against the ground.  

“I know, buddy,” Lance cooed, rubbing the side of the creature’s neck.  “Hunk, Kaltenecker says his udders are very full and he wants to you get on that.”

“Right, sorry,” Hunk went back to squeezing the strange pink appendages to spray liquid into the bucket.  Allura blushed a violent shade of red at the sight and could not imagine why the two paladins were not embarrassed by the act.  And udders… what were udders?  Was that the Earthling word for ‘breasts’?  She really thought they already had that word.  

“I’ll just, uh, leave you to that…”  She stammered awkwardly, slipping out of the stall and hurrying away.  It was only once she got back to the elevator that she realized she had never asked about Hunk’s tools, since she was so surprised by the whole ‘milking’ revelation.  Well, there was no way she was going back there.  Perhaps Pidge would know where the screwdriver was.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Allura... she need some MILK


	21. period.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by cassieisnotapie in the comments. Sorry that Pidge uses they/them pronouns in this particular fic, just being consistent. Plus plenty of people who use they/them pronouns (and others) have this problem anyway.
> 
> Does the chapter title count as a pun? Because of the punctuation? PUNctuation... ;D (...I’ll just see myself out)

Pidge frowned and tapped the small round case against their desk, leaning their chin in their hand as they thought this over.  Making another set of birth control pills had been easy; just a little chemical analysis and manufacturing in the med-bay lab to replicate the package Pidge thankfully had in their backpack when they left Earth.  Really the hardest part had been reading the Altean words on the machine controls.  But the actual making of twenty-one pills and seven placebos had been easy.  Dealing with that week of placebo pills, however, might prove to be a bit trickier, Pidge was realizing, as by now they had run out of the stash of supplies they had had in their backpack.  It was still a little ways off, but Pidge liked to be prepared as best they could.  They had already searched through every drawer in the med-bay dispensary, but hadn’t found anything remotely similar to pads or even tampons.  This made Pidge wonder if Alteans even had this problem at all.  

Seeing no other way around it, Pidge sighed and slid off the stool, resigning to the fact that they would have to ask Allura about it.  Nothing like starting the day with an awkward conversation.  Yay.  

Pidge tucked the birth control case into their pocket and walked to section of the castle that housed the royal sleeping quarters.  They knocked on the door they knew was Allura’s and waited, mentally steeling themselves for the upcoming conversation about what Pidge viewed as the most obnoxious process of the human body.  

Allura answered the door and smiled.  “Oh, Pidge, what a pleasant surprise.  Did you need something?”

“Kind of.”  Pidge said.  “Some information?  It’s sort of a private conversation, though.”  They didn’t know what the likelihood of one of the other paladins or Coran walking down this particular corridor was, but better safe than sorry.  Pidge was so not dealing with that awkwardness that could come from the others overhearing this.  

“Well, come on in and let’s talk.”  Allura opened the door further.  

Inside, the two of them took a seat in the small sitting area off to the side of the spacious bedroom.  The space mice were taking a nap on one of the armchairs, so Pidge took a seat in the other and Allura settled herself on the loveseat, her skirt fluttering as she crossed her legs casually.  “What sort of information are you looking for?”  She asked.

“Do Altean women -- or, I don’t know, maybe it’s the men or something -- ever, uh, get periods?  You know… bleed?”  Pidge asked.

Allura blinked.  “Well, of course.”  

“Oh thank goodness.”  Pidge sighed in relief.  “So you guys have stuff to deal with it?”

“We should in the infirmary.”  Allura nodded.  “Gauze, bandages, supplies for stitching wounds… or if it’s truly severe, there’s always the healing pods.”

Pidge stopped.  “Oh.  Not… not like, getting cut and bleeding.  I meant, like… menstruation.”

Allura tilted her head.  “Men’s what?”

“Menstruation,” Oh God, here it goes.  “You know, like, blood coming out of the uterus once a month?”

“It  _ what _ ?”  Allura looked shocked.  

“You mean you  _ don’t  _ have to deal with that?”  Pidge stared at her.

“Of course not!  Pidge, I think there might be something seriously wrong with you.  Were you injured, somehow?  An internal injury?  Do you need a healing pod?”  Allura asked, concerned.

“No, no, it’s just a natural part of the human body’s reproductive process.”  Pidge explained.  “Human females’ uteruses build up this lining in preparation to get pregnant, and if no sperm fertilizes the egg that month, it all gets bled out and the process starts all over again.”  

Allura made a face.  “That sounds deeply disturbing.  And, I’m sorry, quite revolting.”

“Honestly?  It is.  I mean, it’s not fun, but it’s how humans work.”  Pidge said.  “Wait, then what happens with Alteans?”  

“Our uteruses only begin to create what is necessary for pregnancy once the individual determines they actually want to become pregnant.”  Allura explained.  “Until then, nothing happens.  Good heavens, can you imagine if someone became pregnant before they were ready?”

Pidge gave her a bland look.  “Clearly, you have never been to Earth.  Or seen MTV.”  

Allura looked puzzled by that, but shook it off.  “But, Pidge, I really must advise against getting pregnant until we’ve defeated Zarkon.  We need you to pilot the green lion.  It’s a very serious matter.”

“Oh no, that’s not a problem.”  Pidge said quickly.  “Trust me, I have no plans of getting pregnant anytime soon, if ever.  That’s why I have this.”  They pulled the case of birth control out of their pocket and showed it to Allura.  “I take one of these pills every day.  Actually, I don’t even take them to have sex or anything, I started taking them because my periods were really irregular and painful, so this regulates it.  Twenty-one days where I don’t get my period, seven where I can, potentially, but they don’t usually last that long.”

“That seems cumbersome.”  Allura wrinkled her nose.  “I feel sorry for humans.”

“You and me both.”  Pidge sighed, snapping the case closed.  “But whatever, it’s life.  Just gotta deal with it.  Speaking of which, there are some supplies that I think I’m going to need to take a trip to the space mall for.”  

“Of course.  Please purchase anything you need that we don’t have already.”  Allura said.  

“Actually, do we have like a bank account or something I can borrow money from?”  Pidge asked.  “Don’t really want to wade through another fountain hunting up spare change just to buy tampons.”  

“I’ll go with you,” Allura offered.  “Our notes are old, but they are still GAC and they should accept them.”  

The two of them took a pod to the closest space mall, and Pidge scoured the stores for suitable hygiene products while Allura strongly resisted the urge to buy some nice jewelry.  It turned out that there were, in fact, some species of aliens whose reproductive systems worked similarly to humans, although Pidge was dismayed to find out that no one seemed to have to deal with periods quite as frequently as humans.  Talk about the short end of the biologic stick.  Pidge bought some supplies in bulk to last a while, tried and failed to talk Allura out of a set of rhinestone-studded tiny necklaces for her mice, and the two of them got a snack at the food court before heading back to the castle-ship, where Pidge stowed their purchases in the bathroom and didn’t have to think about them for another few weeks.

~~~~~

“Hey, where is Pidge?”  

Shiro looked up at Lance’s voice, realizing that it was just a few minutes before training began and the green paladin had not yet joined them.  They didn’t see Pidge at breakfast, but that wasn’t terribly unusual.  Despite Hunk’s insistence that three  _ healthy  _ meals a day -- consisting of more than  _ just  _ space-coffee -- was necessary to stay fighting-fit, Pidge sometimes skipped breakfast in favor of working in their lab and ended up running to the training deck at the last minute while cramming a protein bar into their mouth as they pulled on their helmet.  They were never this late, though.  

Shiro straightened up.  “I’ll go look for them.  They may have been up late and overslept by accident.  The rest of you, finish up stretching and start a sparring rotation.”

Leaving the training deck, Shiro made his way back to the paladins’ corridor and knocked on the green paladin’s door.  “Pidge?  You awake in there?”  He listened carefully and heard a grumbling response from the other side of the door.  So they  _ were  _ awake.  Opening the door, he already had a stern lecture on his lips as soon as he saw a messy tuft of auburn hair poking out of the pile of blankets on the bed in the dark room.  “Pidge, it’s time for training.”  Shiro said, hands on his hips.

“I’m taking a sick day.”  Pidge told him, rolling over with a groan.

“We don’t get sick days.”  Shiro reminded them.  “Defending the universe is a round-the-clock job.”  

“And if a Galra ship shows up, I will gladly blast it into oblivion.”  Pidge said.  “But until then, I’m not getting up.”

“Training is important.”  Shiro crossed his arms, wondering why Pidge was being so difficult.  It wasn’t like them to be this obstinate for no discernable reason.  

“Shiro, look, all I’m asking for is one sick day a month, please.”  Pidge said.  

“Why?”  Now he was confused.  “We don’t even have months out here.”

“One day off approximately every twenty-eight days, then.”  Pidge said testily.  “Does that clear it up, or do I need to come out and say it?  Think back to high school health class.”

High school health class?  What did that have to do with anything?  He tried to remember those classes from several years ago.  Say no to drugs, health and fitness, nutrition, the dreaded STI slideshow, sexual health… Oh.  “You… oh, right.  I didn’t consider that.”  He admitted, looking a bit uncomfortable.  

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.  “Lucky you.”

“Do you need anything?”  Shiro asked, at a bit of a loss of what to do.  

“Besides the sweet release of death?  No, I already bought stuff to take care of it.”  Pidge said, pulling the blanket around their shoulders.  “I promise I’ll try to be at training tomorrow, but I just can’t today.  The second day of cramps is always the worst for me.  I don’t think I can stand up straight, let alone spar.”

“No, no, that’s a perfectly valid excuse.”  Shiro was pretty sure he remembered girls in his gym class taking ‘personal health days’ once in a while, where they would spend the class-period on the bleachers working on homework, although at the time he had just assumed they weren’t feeling well or were coming down with the flu or something.  “Take however much time you need.”  

“Thanks.”  Pidge sighed.  “I’ll try to keep it as short as I can.  I’m not really the one in charge, though, unfortunately.”  

“Understandable.”  Shiro said.  “Get some rest, and if you can’t make it down to lunch later, someone will bring you something.”

Pidge smiled, looking tired.  “Thanks, Shiro.” 

Back at the training deck, he found Keith and Lance working on hand-to-hand sparring while Hunk acted as referee.  “Pidge isn’t with you?”  Hunk asked, looking surprised.

“They’re taking a sick day.”  Shiro said, coming to stand beside him while Keith dodged an incoming hit from Lance. 

“Sick day?  Are they okay?”  Hunk asked.  “They seemed fine yesterday.”  

“It’s a… personal health day.”  Shiro said.  

Hunk looked confused, and Lance blocked a strike from Keith before looking up.  “Hey, wait a second, if Pidge gets to take a day off, why don’t we?”

“Pidge has a problem the rest of us don’t have to deal with.”  Shiro said.  

Lance blinked.  “Oh…” 

“Whatever it is, it can wait until we defeat Zarkon.”  Keith frowned.

“No, it really can’t.”  Shiro said.  

“It’s not fair if one person on the team gets to slack off while the rest work hard.”  Keith said.  “Pidge needs to realize that.  Either they’re sick enough to need a pod or they should show up to practice.”

“Yeah, no, I’m with Shiro on this one,” Hunk said.  “Pidge can take a couple days off--”

“A _couple_ _days_?”  Keith rounded on him.  “Don’t you realize how much damage the Galra can do in a couple of days?  Whatever issue Pidge has, it can wait.”

“Dude, give it a rest…” Lance told him.

“We don’t  _ get _ to rest, we’re defenders of the universe!”  Keith said.

“It’s a period, Keith!”  Lance threw his hands up in the air.  “Pidge has a period!  And that means stabbing pain and cramps and blood and feeling like shit, and if you want to feel what it’s like, I can kick you in the balls like my sister threatened me when I didn’t believe her about how bad it was!”

Keith stopped and stared at him, blinking.  “Oh.”  

Hunk covered his face with his hands.  Shiro rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.  Lance put his hands on his hips.  “Are you really going to give Pidge a hard time over this?  Or are you just dense?”

Keith glared at him.  “I’m not  _ dense _ .  I just… I never had any sisters or anything.  I lived alone in a desert.  Sorry if school health class isn’t the most prominent feature of my memory.”

“It’s easy to be at fault for forgetting about it when it’s not something we deal with on a monthly basis.”  Hunk acknowledged.  

Shiro cleared his throat.  “Right, so, barring any sort of Voltron-necessary emergency, Pidge has permission to take it easy until they feel better.  Until then, we can spar in pairs or work on individual training.”

“Wait, so that means…” Hunk looked between Lance and Keith, still on the sparring ring, then at Shiro.  

“We’ll be sparring together until we switch.”  Shiro clarified, pulling his arm across his chest in a stretch.

“Aw man, I always get the toughest opponents.”  Hunk sighed in resignation as Shiro activated his Galra-tech hand.

~~~~~

After lunch, Shiro gave the rest of them the afternoon off and left to take a plate of food goo to Pidge, who had not turned up to the dining room.  Keith disappeared somewhere, and Lance made his way to the kitchen, where he found Hunk rooting around in the cabinets.

“Hey, Hunk,” Lance said, opening up the pantry and eyeing up the boxes and jars all labeled in Altean.  “Do you know if we have any chocolate?”  

“We have something kind of like dark chocolate, but I’m using it.”  Hunk said, pulling a pan out and setting it on the counter.  

“Aw, but I was going to give it to Pidge…” Lance pouted.  “What are you using it for?”

“Making cookies for Pidge, actually.”  Hunk said.  “Want to help and we can call it a joint present?”

“That works.”  Lance said.  “Alright, what’s the first step to making space-cookies?”

“Well, grab that vial over there-- no not that blue one, I don’t know what that is but it makes the cookies as hard as rocks.”  

A little while later, they had about a dozen cookies that they were calling alien-chocolate-chip, as they turned out lime-green due to the green Altean flour.  The chocolate chips tasted like dark chocolate rather than regular, but Hunk said that dark chocolate was actually better for keeping the blood vessels un-constricted and helping with muscle pain.  Lance said he didn’t know there was a reason for the chocolate other than getting it to his sisters as fast as possible before they bit his head off.  

They loaded up all the cooling cookies onto a plate and took them to Pidge’s room.  Knocking on the door, they heard a voice call for them to come in, so they opened the door.  Inside, Pidge was sitting up in bed with their back against the wall and their feet hanging off the side of the bed, laptop on their thighs.  Shiro was sitting next to them, an Altean tablet in his left hand.  His right hand was glowing dimly and pressing a towel against Pidge’s abdomen.  

“Guess whose hand turns out to be a pretty good heating device on a low setting?”  Shiro said before they could ask.  

“It feels so nice…” Pidge sighed happily, patting his hand.  

“Huh, that’s useful.”  Hunk said.  “Are you sure that’s safe?”  

“Hence the towel.”  Pidge pointed to it.  “But it’s not that hot.  Probably not any worse than sitting my laptop on it, anyway.”  

“Fair point.”  Lance nodded.  “Anyway, we brought you cookies.”  

“You did?”  Pidge smiled.  “You guys are so sweet…” 

“I already checked to make sure, and no, these ones do not break teeth when you bite them.”  Hunk said, setting the plate next to Pidge.  

“You guys are the best.  I mean it.”  Pidge said.  “Here, everyone else take a cookie, too.  I can’t possibly eat them all myself.”  

“Really?  My sister turns into a snack-horder during this time of the month,” Lance chuckled, as they all took a cookie from the plate.  The doors slid open behind him and Keith walked in.  He stopped and looked at all of them, then started to turn around.

“Did you need something?”  Shiro asked.  Keith froze.

Lance raised an eyebrow at him.  “Did you really think we didn’t see you?”

Keith shot him a glare before turning to Pidge and pulling out a worn, earmarked paperback book out of one of the packs on his hips.  “Here.  In case you’re bored or something.  I’ve heard movies are good but we don’t have any of those.”  

“Thank you, Keith,” Pidge’s lips twitched up in a smile before they frowned at his arm.  “Wait, what happened to your arms?”

“Nothing.”  Keith said quickly, crossing his arms.  

“Why are they covered in scratches?”  Hunk asked.  

“I… tripped.”  

“Into what?  One of the many copious rose-bushes lying around the castle-ship?”  Lance cocked an eyebrow, not buying it.

“It’s no big deal.”  The red paladin said, shaking his head.

“Keith.”  Shiro said his name, a firm request for the truth. 

Keith hesitated, then looked at Pidge.  “I don’t know what helps with… what you’re dealing with.  But I tried to go planetside and catch some kind of alien dog or cat or something else small and fluffy, but everything just bit me and ran away.  So all I have is that crappy book I brought with me from Earth.  I mean, it’s my favorite, but it’s not something fluffy.  Sorry.”

Pidge stared at him for a moment, then sniffled.  “I can’t believe you tried to catch me a dog, Keith, that’s so sweet.”  They set the book down on their lap and scrubbed at their eyes.  “You guys are all the best.  I love you guys so much.” 

Keith stared at them, looking stricken, then turned to Hunk.  “What did I do wrong?  Why are they crying?”  He whispered.

“Hormones.”  Lance said, patting Pidge’s back.  Pidge laughed and pretended to throw a cookie at him.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith is an awkward kitten who wants to help but isn’t quite sure what to do, lol.
> 
> I think the saltiest I’ve ever been was when I read a study about why humans are the only mammals that bleed quite so much during menstruation (and that aside from primates and bats, most animals barely/don’t even bleed during it, that shit just gets reabsorbed back into the body!) Completely unfair. Thanks a lot, super-aggressive human fetuses that would otherwise kill us without a super built-up blood lining. And fuck all the evolutionary events that led to humans having such a frequent cycle compared to other mammals. I wish I could point to the study but I don’t remember who it was by and I read it on my college’s database which I can’t access anymore. But I still think about it a lot (...every month, actually).


	22. Endurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Lollypopcsical's idea about humans being persistence predators, with some ideas being taken from [this](http://wildwolf25.tumblr.com/post/161192238616/aquaburst07-rainbowdracula) meta on tumblr

When the castle-ship received a distress signal from a nearby planet, Team Voltron didn’t hesitate to answer it.  Allura opened a communication frequency to introduce herself and get stock of their situation.

“We are the people of Kivitektalem,” the leader of the aliens, a short, stocky man with green markings and small horns protruding from his purple hair said, wringing his hands nervously.  “For some time now, a Galra stranger has been targeting our village; stealing our crops and killing anyone who gets in their way.  We think it must be an imperial spy intent on kidnapping our mystic, probably to take her to Zarkon and use her prophecy-telling powers to win his war.  So far, the intruder has been unsuccessful, but there have been too many close calls and we are getting worried.  Please help us, we cannot allow Zarkon to get his hands on our mystic!”

“We will help you, and we will be there shortly.”  Allura assured him.  She turned to the rest of them.  “Paladins, suit up.”

“This planet is ninety-percent composed of water,” Coran frowned down at the screens he was looking at.  “It looks like their village is on the only island on this side of the planet, and is only about two hundred kilometers squared.  It may be difficult to land the castle-ship there, but we’ll have to try.”  

They ended up landing the castle-ship on the beach a little ways away from the village, as it was the only place not covered in forest, fields of crops, or houses.  The village was situated further inland, and they had to walk for about twenty minutes through a scrubby forest that gradually thickened before giving way to cleared land lined with farm fields surrounding the small cropping of houses.  A crowd of about sixty people was gathered in what looked like the town square, all of them muttering anxiously among themselves, and a number of makeshift warriors carrying spears, scythes, and farming tools circled the town, keeping an eye out for danger.    

“Thank the stars you’re here!”  The village leader told them when they approached.  “We fear another attack may be imminent.”

“I was out tending the kalkalap fruits in the orchard when I spotted that dreadful Galra lurking in the trees,” another alien, this one with blue markings, stepped forward.  “I may have barely escaped with my life!”

“Did this Galra attack you?”  Allura asked.  

“Well, no,” the man admitted.  “But he has attacked others before me!”

“So many others…” another woman shook her head sadly.

“I ran back to the village to inform our leader immediately.”  The blue-marking alien went on.  “The Galra usually attacks at sundown or nightfall.  It was rare to see him in the daylight, so he must be up to something!”

“We have already sequestered our mystic in a grain cellar with as many guards as we can,” the leader told them.  “Please, find and capture or kill this Galra invader before it is too late!”

“We will do what we can.”  Allura told him, before turning to the rest of the team.  “Coran, use the castle-ship to scan the surrounding area for any Galra energy signatures.  We should know where our enemy is before attacking.”

“On it!”  Coran took off, sprinting back the way they had just come.  He made it past one field and about halfway back to the forest before he stopped and doubled over, panting.  He straightened up and shouted across the field.  “Number Five!  Any chance your Rover could push the button on the scanner?  It’s a long way back to the castle!”  

“I should be able to…” Pidge opened up a holo-screen projecting from their gauntlet and tapped several commands into it.  “Scanner located and in position, now I just have to bump it with one of Rover 2.0’s corners to push it…” After a few tries, they managed to get the button pushed and Coran had made it back to the group, where one of the locals offered him a drink of water.  Pidge had Rover’s system transmit the information from the scan to their holo-screen.  “Looks like there’s a Galra energy signature in the forest about five miles north of here, heading west at a pace of 1.5 meters per tick.”  They looked up.  “What should we do?”

“It’s moving slowly enough now,” Allura mused.  “But Galra are some of the fastest aliens in the galaxy.  They’re natural sprinters, so even if we approach, he’ll just be able to run away.”  

Shiro looked up, a slow smile spreading over his lips.  “He can’t run forever.”  He said, his voice low.  

Something about his words sent a strange chill up Allura and Coran’s spines, but the rest of the paladins simply exchanged knowing looks and the same slightly-ominous smiles.

“Ooh, I like the way you think.”  Lance said, rubbing his hands together.  “Exhaust him, then go in for the kill.”

“Good plan, except for the kill.”  Pidge pointed out.  “We should interrogate him about his motives.”

“We should fan out and start pushing him away from the village.”  Keith nodded.  “We’ll need to take advantage of the daylight while it lasts.”

“And we’ll need provisions.”  Hunk added thoughtfully.  “Water and energy-rich snacks we can eat on the go.  We’ll need to keep the upper hand on him.”

“You’re not seriously thinking of outrunning him, are you?”  Allura asked.

“Of course not.”  Shiro said.  “We’re going out out-pace him.”

The grins that the rest of the paladins exchanged unnerved the Alteans and Kivitektalemians, without being able to quite put their finger on why.

~~~~~       

Hunk, Lance, and Keith ran back to the castle -- ignoring Coran’s confused protest that “it’s nearly a mile away!” -- to get provisions, while Pidge and Shiro started setting up virtual maps and radar systems to be shared between the paladins suits, running on the same frequencies as their communication systems.

“What if we simply fired a blaster at the spot where we know he is?”  Coran proposed.  

The village leader gasped, looking horrified.  “And destroy the sacred forest of Mak’talil?!”

“That’s why,” Shiro said, gesturing toward the village leader, who was eyeing the Altean man as if he had just proposed eating them instead of just shooting at part of the forest.  “It would be too messy and might cause a forest fire.  Plus, killing him might solve the problem of one Galra right here and now, but we won’t know who sent him, what he’s after, or if someone else will be sent in his place.”

“He’s after our mystic!”  The village leader reminded them.  

“Evidence suggests he’s after your food, actually.”  Pidge said, tapping away at a screen containing a series of layered maps of the island’s topography.  

“And our all-powerful mystic!”

“Sure, if you say so.”  Pidge muttered, sighing in resignation.  

“We’re back!”  Lance called, jogging back up the path.  “And we brought  _ fanny packs _ !”  

“Backpacks would get in the way of our jet-packs, in case we need them.”  Keith said, slowing to a halt behind him.  Hunk followed close behind, huffing and puffing but still keeping pace with the other two.

“Man, I am not going to like this mission…” he muttered, bracing his hands on his knees.  “I can do it, but… quiznak, I’m having flashbacks to that stupid pacer test in gym class… I thought I left those days behind me!” 

Lance dug around in one of the packs he was holding and pulled out a square package.  “Space granola bar?”  He  asked, holding it out.

“No, I’m good,” Hunk straightened up and put his hands on his hips.  “We might need those later.”  

“How many do you have?”  Shiro asked.

“Three for each of us, but they’re each as filling as a small meal.”  Hunk explained, handing Shiro a pack.  “And everyone has two water bottles each, too.”

“We don’t know how long this will be.”  Shiro warned.  “It could take a couple hours or all day.  Make your provisions last.”

“Maps and tracking radar are loaded into everyone’s suits.”  Pidge announced, closing their screen.  “We should get going before we lose the hottest hours of the day.”

“Time for the hunter to become the hunted!”  Lance grinned.  

~~~~~

Allura and Coran returned to the castle-ship to oversee the paladins’ coordination and keep an eye on the Galra’s position, while the village leader urged the other townspeople to return to their homes and stay away from the forest.  

“I still don’t understand this plan…” Allura frowned, watching the paladins’ blinking signals on the viewscreen, another screen showing the views from each paladin’s helmet (so far, the images had been mostly the surrounding forest).  They all had at least a hundred meters between them, nowhere near close enough to defend each other in an attack.  Furthermore, they weren’t charging at the Galra, despite their steady gain on him.  The Galra’s energy signature stayed several quadrants ahead of them all, weaving a path northward through the forest.  

“Persistence hunting.”  Keith’s voice came through the com system.  “We’ll wear him down by never giving him a chance to rest.”

“But you’ll only tire yourselves out as well.”  Coran pointed out.

“Nope.”  Shiro said.  “We’re all humans in fighting-fit condition.  Our endurance won’t be a problem; we can walk for days on end if we need to.  But Galra are built for speed, not endurance.  This is similar to how I fought against Galra in the gladiator arena, by making them tire themselves out before I could be.  We’ll get him, slowly but surely.”  

“This technique is… unconventional.”  Allura crossed her arms.  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Several vargas later, the Alteans were beginning to grow worried.  They still hadn’t caught the Galra, despite getting close several times.  The paladins would periodically give chase whenever the Galra seemed to pause for a rest, but never at more than a light jog and only until they got him moving again.  Mostly, it was just a steady, brisk walking pace, their positions shifting gradually to keep the Galra in a net and moving towards the north side of the island.  Not even the rocky terrain seemed to slow them down, as they managed to keep pace with the Galra, whose route seemed to be growing increasingly erratic.  Then, suddenly, he stopped moving.  

“Time to strike.”  Shiro whispered into his com system.  “Keith, Lance, Pidge, circle him from the far side, Hunk and I will come in from the south-east and south-west.”

“I’ll take the west.”  Keith said.

“My legs are longer, I’ll take the north position,” Lance said.  “Pidge, you get the north-east.”

“Roger that.  Moving into position.”  Pidge said, and the two Alteans watched as the paladins’ signals encircled the Galra’s point on the map, closing in on him.

“Why do I feel like we’re about to witness an angry klanmuïrl attack a baby gufsthanuk?”  Coran whispered to Allura.

“Bayards out, but he’s probably pretty weak.”  Shiro told the rest of them.  “Be prepared for anything, though.”

“They’re not charging?”  Allura looked confused.  Each paladin seemed to be simply walking closer, their circle converging on the exhausted Galra until they found him slumped over on a rock in a small clearing, panting.  

“What… do you want… with me?”  The Galra glared at them, not looking particularly threatening while leaning his elbows on his knees and gasping for breath.  Allura wasn’t surprised; they had been chasing him all day!  The paladins, on the other hand, looked completely unaffected.

“The real question is, what do  _ you  _ want with that village?”  Shiro asked him, crossing his arms.  

“Food…” The Galra dropped his head into his hands.  “I just want… their food…”

“I knew it.”  Pidge muttered.

“So you’re not after their mystic?”  Hunk asked.  

The Galra glanced up at him.  “Is that the old woman… who is always high on livnun juice?”

“Probably.”  Hunk shrugged.  “Point taken.”  

“Then why _ are _ you on this planet?”  Keith asked.  “To spy on them?”

“I was exiled here… for defecting from the Imperial army.”  The Galra explained, beginning to catch his breath after being allowed to rest for the first time all day.  

“There are Galra defectors?”  Hunk asked.  

“What, you think being a soldier in a militaristic empire that conquered planets on a weekly basis is a walk in a rulkuaht park?”  The Galra glared at him.  “Of course there are defectors.”  

Shiro spoke into his communicator.  “Princess, I don’t think this guy is a serious threat.  Perhaps we should bring him back to the castle for interrogation and decide what to do with him.”

“Very well.  As long as he isn’t terrorizing the village anymore.”  Allura said.  “I’ll see about sending a pod to collect you.”

“No need.  We can just walk back.”  Hunk said easily, while Lance fitted some Altean handcuffs on the Galra’s wrists, the much larger alien unusually docile after the ordeal he had just suffered.

The Galra looked up, eyes wide.  “No, please, send a pod, I beg you.”  

“It’s like five miles back to the castle, calm down.”  Pidge told him, looking completely unsympathetic.

“I am not familiar with your units of measurement, but I know how big this island is!”  The Galra said.        

“It is entirely your fault that we’re all the way out here.”  Lance told him, poking him in the back.  

“You  _ chased  _ me!”  

“Have some water and quit your whining.”  Keith told him, thrusting a water bottle at him.  “If we leave now we can get back before nightfall.”

“What sort of insane creatures are you?”  The Galra muttered, casting a dark look at them all as they started walking.

“Humans.”  Shiro said simply.  Pidge and Lance high-fived while the Galra just stared at them all, stunned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well they would walk 500 miles and they would walk 500 more just to be the paladins to walk a thousand miles to STOMP ZARKON INTO THE FLOOR.
> 
> Also check out [this](http://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-24953910) story about some people that used this technique to take down a couple of CHEETAHS


	23. Injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it my birfday, here have some Shiro hurt/comfort * flings this at you * Also sorry for not posting for a while; got busy and then was doing Pidge Ship Week things.
> 
> If this seems graphic while you're reading it, for what it's worth, the procedure is only detailed right up until the actual stitches (goes something like "and then he got to work" and Shiro doesn't actually see anything). Tread carefully if that stuff squicks you tho (EDIT: Apparently this is more of a "moderate" amount of description rather than "mild". Sorry about that!)
> 
> Edit: I FORGOT HE GOT HIS BAYARD BACK AT THE END OF S2 WHOOPS. Well just put this one before that in the timeline, I suppose.

It had been a very hard battle.

The robeast they had been fighting was a creature with sharp spines down its back, razor-edged wings, and serrated talons.  It didn’t help that the creature had attacked them when they were planetside and without their lions.  It helped even less that the locals they had been negotiating with seemed to have little emergency protocol other than running around screaming while the paladins did their best to fight the robeast off without injuring any of them.  They managed to defeat it, eventually, but not before it had slashed its talons across Shiro’s forehead, leaving a deep gouge that bled profusely and had him feeling light-headed in minutes.  Cursing his lack of a bayard or real weapon -- the Galra-tech hand was useful, but the literal definition of a close-ranged attack, putting him well within the creature’s striking range --he had powered through the rest of the battle with vision only in one eye, his other screwed shut against the blood dripping into it.  

By the time they got back to the castle, he was feeling dizzy, stumbling, and leaning on Keith for support.  They took him straight to the infirmary, the Alteans rushing to meet them there just as they were sitting Shiro in a chair.

“How hard did it hit your head?”  Hunk asked, eyeing him anxiously.  “Do you remember your name?  What’s the date and month?  Do you know where you are?”

“Takashi Shirogane, we were on planet Agek,”  Shiro said calmly.  “And no, I don’t know the date or month.”

“Uh-oh, that’s not good.”  Hunk frowned.  

Shiro arched an eyebrow at him, grimacing as it pulled at the wound.  “Hunk, do  _ you  _ know the date?”  He himself hadn’t know what day it was since the Kerberos mission was abducted.  Even before that, once they lifted off from Earth, the only way they had known the ‘date’ was by their equipment and instruments that kept track of it on a 24-hour basis, even as they hurtled further and further away from the sun.  Things like conventional Earth dates were a little hard to keep track of out in the middle of outer space.

Hunk thought about it.  “Actually, no.  Good point.”    

“Good heavens, this looks terribly serious,” Coran peered at the wound while Keith gently pulled Shiro’s white forelock -- now dyed a bright, coppery red -- away from his forehead, carefully picking the strands out of the wound.  

“It isn’t as bad as it looks.”  Shiro said, accepting a cloth from Lance and pressing it to his forehead with a wince.  “Head wounds bleed a lot.  I’m fine.” 

“This really does look quite serious…” Allura frowned.  “Perhaps we should get you into a healing pod, just to be safe.

“No.”  Shiro said quickly.  “I’m fine, really.  I don’t need a pod.”  

“I got the first aid kit.”  Pidge said, setting it on the table.  “There should be some steri strips in here.”  

“I don’t think that’s going to cover it…”  Hunk said uncertainly, pulling back the cloth to peer at the wound.

“It’ll be fine.”  Shiro said firmly.  “Painkillers and steri strips will be enough.”

The paladins exchanged nervous looks.  

“Shiro,” Hunk said carefully.  “We can see something white.  I don’t know if it’s connective tissue or bone.”  

Ah.  Well, shit.  

Allura gasped and covered her mouth, and Coran’s eyes widened as he leaned closer.  “You mean that little white strip there is his  _ skull _ ?”

“Possibly.”  Lance nodded grimly.

“It’s not very much, though, don’t worry.”  Hunk said quickly, dabbing up more blood before it could drip into his eye.  

“ _ Don’t worry _ ?!”  Allura stared at him, aghast.  “He needs a pod immediately!”  

“No!”  The volume of Shiro’s voice startled them all.  He grimaced and looked down as his hand tightened into a fist against his leg.  “I don’t like the pods.  I don’t like the small space, or being frozen.  Being in them gives me flashbacks to the druids.  Last time, I had nightmares for weeks after coming out.  Please, unless I’m close to death, please don’t make me go in them again.”  He  _ hated  _ having to admit this to his team, to the people he was supposed to be leading.  But he couldn’t let them stuff him in one of those pods.  Not again.

Keith squeezed his shoulder.  “No one will make you go in them if you don’t want to.”  

The rest of the paladins nodded in agreement.  The two Alteans looked conflicted.  “But then… how will we treat the wound?”  Allura asked.  

“The way all humans treat wounds without healing pods.”  Shiro said.  “Clean it, bandage it, and let it heal.”

Hunk pulled back the cloth to examine the wound again, frowning.  Lance leaned closer, studying it as well.  “I don’t know, man, this looks like it needs stitches…”

“I can suture it myself.  The Kerberos team all had to have basic medical training for the mission, in case there was an emergency in space.”  Shiro said.  “Just give me a mirror and I can do it.”  Probably.  It would be difficult, even with a mirror, but it was the best they had.

“That sounds too risky.”  Hunk shook his head.  “I learned how to do sutures for my wilderness and remote first-aid certification.  I’ll do it.”

“You’re sure?”  Shiro eyed him carefully.  He knew Hunk didn’t have the strongest stomach, and putting a needle through skin was pretty big stuff.  Although to be fair, he had mopped up the blood without freaking out.  

“I haven’t actually had to do it on a wound since my certification…” Hunk said slowly.  “Admittedly, yeah, I’m a little nervous.  But this is exactly why I did the training in the first place, in case of an emergency somewhere remote.  And I’d say thousands of light-years away from Earth is pretty remote.”  He nodded to himself, decisive.  “Lance, hold this against his forehead and keep pressure on it.  I’m going to wash my hands.”  

“This is crazy.”  Lance muttered to himself, taking over for Hunk.  

“Allura, Coran, do we have any kind of local anesthetic or numbing agent?”  Keith asked.  Shiro nodded as much as he could, appreciating that.  This would be a lot more painful without it.  

“I’ll see what I can find.”  Coran said, moving away to look through the cabinets in the infirmary.

“What are sutures?”  Allura asked.  

“Stitching the wound closed.”  Pidge explained, rummaging through the first aid kid and setting certain supplies on the table next to Shiro’s chair.  A curved needle, something that looked a bit like pliers, what looked like a roll of thread, a syringe, a roll of gauze...  “It’s a bit like sewing.”  

Allura’s eyes widened.  “You’re not serious.”  

“Dead serious.”  Keith said, pulling a black hair tie off his wrist with his teeth.  He combed his fingers through Shiro’s blood-streaked hair to draw it back, then tied it into a small ponytail lying along the top of his head, getting it out of the way.  “Alteans don’t do stitches?”

“On cloth, yes,” Allura said.  “But never on skin.  That sounds like something out of a Nog’nilkian horror film.”

“Hey, Coran, any luck on that anesthetic?”  Hunk asked, pulling on a pair of gloves.  

“This should do the trick.”  Coran said, walking back over with what looked like a very small satellite dish attached to a hand-held device.  “It should be able to numb the area to sensations, although you might need to use a much higher dose than normal.  It’s intended for numbing the skin following a sting from an ihsum bug.  They’ve got a nasty bite that stings quite a bit, but not nearly as bad as this.”  

Lance pulled the cloth away from the wound and Shiro closed his eyes while Coran turned on the device, which shone a bright, fluorescent blue light on Shiro’s forehead.  Coran widened the beam to cover the entire wound and some of the skin around it, turning it off every few seconds and testing the effects by poking the surrounding skin.  When Shiro claimed he could no longer feel it, he turned the device off and set it aside.  

A tense silence settled over the group as Hunk began working.  Keith pressed a clean cloth over Shiro’s eye and his brow to catch the runoff while Hunk flushed out the wound using the syringe and a few drops of disinfectant diluted with water.  Once it was clean, he methodically readied the needle and driver, took a deep breath, and got to work.  Shiro wasn’t able to see much with the cloth Keith had over his right eye, but he heard Allura gasp quietly and saw her hands fly up towards her face, likely to cover her mouth or eyes.  He couldn’t feel anything along the wound itself, but the skin around the perimeter of the numbed area felt a weird tugging sensation that he tried very hard not to focus on too much.  

It wasn’t the first time Shiro had ever gotten stitches -- he had needed a few as a kid, and the Galra had stitched up some of his more severe wounds from the arena -- but it was the first time he had had an audience for it.  It made his scalp prickle, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as being strapped down to a metal table while the Galra medics haphazardly stitched him up with no anesthetic, so he said nothing and just closed his eyes, waiting for it to be over.  

He felt something grab his left hand and opened his eyes to find it was Pidge.  The green paladin glanced at him.  “Just… in case you accidentally move, or something.”  They said, voice quiet.  Shiro squeezed their hand reassuringly, knowing it was likely just as much for their benefit as it was his.  He kept his gaze cast down instead of closing his eyes again, needing to assure himself that he was in the castle-ship surrounded by his friends, rather than a Galra ship surrounded by enemies.  He couldn’t see much more than Hunk’s knee, Pidge’s hand gripping his own, Lance’s shoe, and the hem of Allura’s dress, but it was enough to ground him.  

“There we go, that should do it.”  Hunk announced, snipping the last thread with a pair of scissors.  

“How many was it?”  Shiro asked as Keith dabbed up what little blood had trickled out during the suturing process.  

“Fifteen.”  Hunk told him, setting his tools down.  

Shiro grimaced, his brow feeling wonky and lopsided from being numbed.  That would definitely leave a noticeable scar on his face.  Another one.  “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t care about my looks anymore.”  He sighed.  Pidge squeezed his hand.  

“Nah, man, you’re still as devastatingly handsome as ever, don’t worry,” Lance said, tearing off a few pieces of medical tape while Hunk laid a square of gauze over the wound.  “You might even have me beat.  Just barely, though.”  

Shiro chuckled.  He looked up for the first time and noticed the Alteans looked pale and tense.  “Are you guys okay?”  

Coran sighed.  “We should be the ones asking you that…”

Allura nodded in agreement.  “I must say, humans are… remarkably resilient.  The amount of pain you are willing to tolerate is astounding.  Not that we Alteans are weak, of course, but over the past few millennia, we have gotten in the habit of popping into the healing pods for anything remotely painful, simply because we have the technology.  I can’t imagine treating serious wounds any other way.”  

“And to handle it all while being awake… that’s quite admirable.”  Coran added.  “You’re very brave.”

“We do what we have to do.”  Shiro smiled softly.  “I think Alteans are just as brave as humans.”

“Well, I’m not feeling so brave now.”  Hunk declared briskly, peeling off the latex gloves.  “I think I need to lie down for like, five hours and never look at any blood again.  You should probably rest too, Shiro.  Actually, let’s just all have a group nap.  Allura and Coran, you too.”  

“Yeah!  Relieved-no-one-is-dead cuddles!”  Lance cheered.

“You humans and your post-battle bonding sessions…” Coran chuckled fondly.                

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a medical professional so there could be mistakes in this. (EDIT: apparently the thread doesn't come on a spool like I thought. Uh... Altean magic science!) My research consisted of: googling “how to do stitches on yourself” and reading a couple of websites to compare info, thinking back on when I had a mole surgically removed from my forehead where I was awake for the procedure, and the following texted conversation with my mother:  
> Me: “Hey remember when I was 3 and I whacked my head on granma’s table and you said you could see my skull a little and I had to get stitches? Was I crying in pain like the WHOLE time or was I surprisingly chill? Like how much pain do you think there was?”  
> Mom: “.....why?”  
> Me, wondering how much pain Shiro would be in: “Uhhhh writing research”


	24. Lost in (Castle) Translation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. Real life's keeping me running around

Pidge could hear Lance before they even saw him.  The blue paladin had a habit of singing or humming when he was in a good mood (which made it easy to rule out who it was that was taking those long showers in the evenings).  The rest of the castle-ship’s inhabitants had become fairly used to it, and usually no one minded the quiet noise.  Hunk sometimes even joined in if he knew the song.  Only once had Shiro asked him to stop, but that had been because he had been singing “Cotton Eye Joe” in Keith’s ear all morning trying to rile him up.  Normally, though, it didn’t bother anyone.

Except  _ that  _ song.

Pidge paused in their typing to give the code on their screen a flat, unamused look.  The cursor blinked back at them, completely unsympathetic, as Lance came around the corner, humming that melody that Pidge quite honestly would have been fine never hearing again.  That song had been all over the radiowaves the summer before they all left Earth.  Pidge hadn’t minded it, at first; it was a catchy song, nice beat and melody… but even good things could turn bad at a certain point.  And that point had been changing the radio station five times and it came on all of them within ten minutes.  

“Hey, Pidge,” Lance greeted, pausing in between humming verses.  Pidge made some sort of grunt of acknowledgement and went back to their work, trying to tune him out as he launched into humming another verse.  He rifled through the kitchen cabinets, searching for a snack, and started singing quietly under his breath as he got to one of the choruses.  “ _ I want to see your hair dance, I want to be your rhythm, to show you my mouth, your favorite places, favorite, favorite, baby… _ ”

Huh, so there was an English version of that song?  Pidge hadn’t known that.  They had only heard the original on the radio.  They had even heard it enough times to know some snatches of fragments of the song, the parts that repeated at least.  It was odd to be able to understand it, they thought.  What weird lyrics, though.  

“ _ Slowly… Let’s do it on the beach in Rich Port, until the waves scream ‘ay, blessed!’...” _

Pidge looked up.  “How come you don’t just say Rich Port?”  Wait...  What they meant to say didn’t come out of their mouth.  They tried again.  “Rich Port.   _ Rich Port _ .  Port… what the hell?”

Lance stared at them.  “...What?”

“I’m trying to say Rich Port and it keeps coming out as Rich Port!”  Pidge frowned, really concentrating.  “You know, the island?  Unincorporated territory of the United States?  Rich Port!”  

“You’re saying it fine, I don’t know what your problem is.”  Lance said, looking baffled.  

“Augh!”  Pidge reached into the backpack sitting next to them and pulled out a notebook and pencil.  They wrote the words ‘ _ Puerto Rico _ ’ on the paper and then stared at it for a moment, as if expecting the letters to rearrange themselves.  Turning the notebook around, they showed it to Lance.  “I’m saying this, but it keeps coming out as ‘Rich Port’, and I don’t know why.”

“But you’re saying ‘Rich Port’.”  Lance frowned.  “I don’t see the problem.”

“See?!  You’re saying it, too!”  Pidge pointed at him.  

“Because that’s it’s name!”  Lance said.

“But the name is in Spanish!”

“And I’m saying it in Spanish!”  

“No you’re not!”

“I definitely am!”

“Hang on,” Pidge held up a hand.  “Say it again, slowly, in Spanish.  Really enunciate it.”

“Rich Port.”  Lance said, and it was like Pidge was watching a really badly dubbed movie; his lips were not matching up with sounds that were coming out of his mouth.  Or, rather, the sounds that were making it to Pidge’s ears.  

Pidge sat back, eyes wide.  “...Oh my god.  Does this castle have some kind of automatic translation system?”

“No idea.  Wait, are you saying you were hearing English when I was singing in Spanish?”  Lance asked.  

“I legitimately had no idea you were singing in Spanish.”  Pidge said.  

“So, then, you can understand me, right now?”  Lance asked, his lips moving unevenly with the words.  “You understand the words coming out of my mouth right now?”  

“Yeah.”  Pidge stared at him, and Lance’s eyes widened.  

“We need to find people who speak more languages.”  Lance grabbed their hand and the two of them went running down the hall.

~~~~~

“Guys, we have an emergency!”  Lance exclaimed, running onto the bridge of the ship with Pidge in tow.  The rest of the paladins and the two Alteans looked up, concerned.  Lance skidded to a halt in front of the group and pointed at Allura.  “You put Google Translate in all of our heads!”  

“I did  _ what _ ?”  Allura stared at him, looking bewildered by the accusation.  

“It’s more complicated than that.”  Pidge stepped in.  “I don’t think it’s in our heads, actually.  It seems like we can say things in any language and the castle translates the sound waves to a language each of us understands by the time they reach our ears.”

“Well, yes, of course,” Coran looked confused. 

“You’re not even denying it?!”  Lance asked.

“How did you think we were able to understand each other?”  Coran asked, looking around at them all.  “You lot obviously don’t speak Altean, and most of your planet’s modern languages were formed during the ten thousand years we were in stasis, so we wouldn’t know them.”  

“So you’ve just been speaking Altean this whole time?!”  

“We’re Altean, what else would we speak?”  Allura asked.  “But Pidge is correct; in order to improve the fluidity and ease of diplomatic negotiations with any number of species of aliens, the castle has a built-in translation system that Altean scientists spend decaphoebes perfecting.”

“Hang on, that right there,” Shiro held up a hand.  “You just said ‘decaphoebes’, and I definitely heard it as ‘decaphoebes’.  Did everyone else?”  After everyone nodded, he went on.  “Why wouldn’t that word translate?”  

“Well, the system isn’t completely perfect,” Coran said.  “It can’t do written materials, only soundwaves, and some words and concepts from one language are unable to be neatly translated into another language.  Our time slices are larger than yours, so the concepts don’t line up exactly.  Units of measurement commonly run across this problem, and some exclamations.  You all picked up on ‘quiznak’, remember?”  

“Somebody say something else in another language.”  Lance said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  “I wanna test it.”  

“I took Spanish in high school, but I’m guessing you already tried that one.”  Hunk said.  

“Try it anyway.”  Lance said.  

“Alright,” Hunk thought for a minute, and when he next spoke, the movements of his lips were slightly off from the words most of them heard, as if he had been dubbed over in a movie.  “Hello, my name is Hunk and, uh, I like cars.  I’m hungry.  Where is the bathroom?  Two beers, please.”  He paused.  “Yeah that’s all I remember.  Not much stuck with me.”  

“Who heard it in English?”  Lance asked, looking around at all of them.  Pidge, Keith, and Shiro raised their hands.  “In Altean?”  Allura and Coran raised their hands as the other three lowered them.  “I heard it in Spanish -- your accent is terrible, buddy -- and what did you hear it in when you said it?”  Lance asked Hunk.

“Weirdly enough… in my head it was Spanish, but then I said it, and… it sounded like English?”  Hunk frowned, blinking.  “Woooah that’s so weird…”

“Someone else try!”  Lance said.

“I took French in third grade but all I remember is how to say: ‘I like pie’.”  Pidge said.  “I like pie.  I like pie.   _ I. like. pie _ .”  They spoke slowly, the words not matching their mouth.  

“Did anyone hear it in French?”  Lance asked.  They all shook their heads.  “This is so  _ wild _ !”  

“‘Zat so?” Shiro paused, then laughed.  “Huh, so that’s how you’d translate that into English?”

“What did you say?”  Hunk asked, curious.  

“I said a word in a difficult-to-understand Japanese dialect that my grandparents speak.”  Shiro explained.  “Makes sense that ‘’zat so’ would be a rougher version of ‘is that so’.”  

“When cold revenge is served, the dish is always very good!”  Pidge blurted out suddenly.  “Hey, it even knows Klingon!  It even got the difference from ‘revenge is a dish best served cold’!”  

“Why do  _ you  _ know Klingon?”  Keith stared at them.

“You underestimate the level of nerd I am at.”  Pidge smirked, crossing their arms.  

“Keith, you try it!”  Lance told him.

“I only know English.”  Keith shrugged.  “Orphan with no family history, remember?”  

“I remember an occasion where you said you were, quote, ‘fluent in cat’.”  Shiro elbowed him.

“I meant cat body language and habits, not like meows and stuff.”  Keith shot him a look.  “And see if I help you get a stray cat out from under your bed again.”

“He laid down on the floor with a book and a bowl of chicken and hummed quietly for an entire hour until the cat got curious enough to come out.”  Shiro explained to the rest of them, grinning.  “No eye contact.  Just two introverted creatures connecting in silence.  It was the strangest thing.  Like watching a nature documentary.”

“The point is, though, I don’t speak any other languages.”  Keith said.  He paused.  “Unless… Ahk’sukr’ak!”  The word was guttural-sounding and rough.

“What the heck was that?”  Hunk raised an eyebrow.

“I heard Antok say it when he stubbed his toe taking me down to the Trials room at the Blade of Marmora base.”  Keith said.  “I figured it was a Galra swear.  Guess that one doesn’t translate either, like quiznak.”

“We understood it, so there is an Altean equivalent.”  Allura gave him a stern look.  “That is  _ not  _ a word to be uttered in polite company.” 

“In his defense, he didn’t know.” Coran acknowledged.  “But yes, Keith, no one needs to know what your mother did and with what animals.” 

“Wait, wait, I’ve got the ultimate test.”  Hunk held up his hands, cutting off Keith’s bewildered look at the Alteans.  He took a deep breath, then his hands started moving in a series of gestures while his lips stayed firmly shut.  A smooth, female voice, like the one that had told them to identify themselves when they first found the castle back on Arus, began to speak, seeming to come from everywhere around them at once.  “ _ The squirrel runs through the forest in high heels.  The stars give birth to cookies _ .”  

“Alright, that can’t be right.”  Lance crossed his arms.

“No, it is!”  Hunk said excitedly.  “The squirrel runs through the forest in high heels, and the stars give birth to cookies!  Those are the only things I know how to say in American Sign Language!”

“Why  _ that _ ?”  Keith stared at him.

“Youth group late night lock-ins,” Hunk shrugged.  “You learn some weird things.”

“Hang on, is there a way to turn off the castle translator system for a minute?”  Pidge asked the Alteans.  “I want to hear what Altean actually sounds like.”  

Allura pulled up a holo-screen and tapped through a series of commands.  “It is not meant to be turned off, to avoid breaking during the middle of diplomatic negotiations, but I believe there is a manual off-switch…”  She paused.  “Alright, turning it off in four ticks.  Three, two, one…” She tapped a button, and they all waited a moment in silence.  The paladins looked around, expecting to hear or feel some kind of indication that something was different, like a click or a beep, but there was nothing.  

“Ayja, odu edus’ak?”  Coran asked, speaking to the paladins.  “Oame’ar ag awakiramus’ak?” 

“That’s weird, turn it back on!”  Hunk said, waving his hands at him.  “I’m not used to not understanding Coran!”

Allura frowned.  “Aanat’on egnog ah oakihsi’ad ot oomiamus.  Usik’ayjani.”  Next to her, Coran nodded in agreement.  

“Are they bad-mouthing us in Altean?”  Keith asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“BortaS bIr jablu’DI’ reH QaQqu’ nay’!”  Pidge shouted.

“Pidge, you  _ know  _ Klingon gives me the heebie-jeebies!”  Hunk backed away from the green paladin.  

“tlhab ’oS ’Iw; HoHwI’ So’ batlh…” Pidge grinned evilly, wiggling their fingers as they walked toward him.  “Heghlu’meH QaQ jajvam!”  They roared gutturally, and Hunk let out a yelp as he ducked behind Shiro, who was visibly fighting to keep a straight face.

“Annedayenn quiznak…. annak aatt’on?”  Coran whispered to Allura, who just shrugged with a sigh.  

“I heard ‘quiznak’,” Keith crossed his arms.  

“Maybe we should turn that translator back on…” Shiro said.  He waved at Allura a little uncertainly.  “Um, Princess?  Can you…?  The translator…?  Yeah, I know you can’t understand me, don’t give me that look, just turn on the translator again...”  He sighed as Allura just stared at him in complete bafflement.

“ _ Deeeespacitooo! _ ”  Lance sang loudly.  “Hey it works now!”

“That does not give you permission to start singing again!”  Pidge told him, just as Allura was finally understanding that Shiro wanted her to turn the translator back on.  “SoSlI' DaHechbe'chugh vavlI' He’-- father smelt of elderberries!”  Halfway through their shouted statement, the castle translator switched back on at the press of Allura’s finger, turning Pidge’s Klingon back into English.  

“Ha!  You’re not so terrifying once we know what you’re saying!”  Hunk pointed at the green paladin over Shiro’s shoulder, still hiding behind him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people were asking for things relating to languages and I thought long and hard about how to handle it because, as someone who loves studying/learning languages (and uses my third language every day in my day-to-day life), one of my pet peeves is seeing obviously-google-translated words just tossed willy-nilly into certain characters’ dialogue, especially being played off as “oh sorry, sometimes it’s hard to switch languages…” because that’s… just not how being bi/multi-lingual works? Like there’s this whole mindset… you don’t just “switch” like that... 
> 
> So I didn’t want to rely on google translate, and even if I had the help of a native speaker of insert-any-language-here, there’s a high chance that a good portion of readers wouldn’t be able to read it anyway, and as a reader that’s just annoying, imo (*war flashbacks to my time in the Hetalia fandom*) Soooo… ever seen a really badly web-translated phrase? My personal favorite is Bing translating イケメン/“ikemen” (Japanese for a cool, good-looking, attractive guy) as “twink”. Oh Bing… no, no no no honey… And yet, terrible web translations gave me the idea for this chapter. Imagine being stuck with google translate ALL THE TIME.
> 
> As for the paladins, idk if it’s just because the VAs are all American, but based on the fact that none of them have significant accents other than standard-American (except for Sven lol, bless Josh Keaton), I’m going with the headcanon that English is all their primary language (I didn’t say ‘first’, I just mean the one they all talk to each other in and that they use in school/the Garrison and stuff). Who knows, maybe they speak something different at home with their families, but I personally don’t think they would ALL be 100% fluent in the languages specified in their “heritage” sections of that (unofficial?) paladin handbook that came out awhile ago. My heritage is German and Italian and I don’t know more than a handful of words from either language (most of them swears… thanks Dad). I think Lance would be the most likely to speak a different language at home, and Keith would be the least (poor guy knows zip-diddly-squat about his own family). I do have a small self-indulgent headcanon that Shiro’s grandparents live in Japan and he knows some Tsugaru dialect, but that’s just my guilty pleasure, I know that’s waaaay too specific to ever be canon, hence the HEADcanon... (in case you’re curious, the word Shiro tries with the castle translator is んだべ (“ndabe”) which is the Tsugaru dialect for そうですね(“sou desu ne)... See? Looks/sounds totally different! Dialects are so cool! I frickin’ love dialects) I also harbor a small headcanon that Pidge and Matt learned Klingon as a ‘secret code’ when they were kids and used it to write secret messages to each other. If anyone is curious, the ‘Altean’ words I made up are just romanized japanese with the kana in the right order but backwards (so おはようございます would be “oahoyu ogaziamus”). I tried straight-up backwards and it looked weird. Now it’s even harder to figure out what it says!
> 
> If you didn’t catch it, the song Lance sings is Despacito. Catchy beat, in Spanish, and sort of became a meme for a little while? Lance would love it.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Sorry for the long author’s note!


	25. Rock Stacking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I’ve been sitting on this mostly-finished WIP for a solid year. So even though I’m honestly not that big of a fan of it, I grit my teeth, dusted it off at arms length, and forced myself to finish off the last 440 words (see the following “chapter” for more information)
> 
> Originally, I got this idea while mountain climbing. Or, more accurately, I used this idea to distract myself from the intense pain of climbing the tallest effing mountain in my whole darned prefecture. I looked into this practice online afterward to see if there was a reason people do this and realized that conservationists really don’t like this practice, as it is detrimental to the environment (moving rocks increases soil erosion and takes homes away from insects and small creatures that burrow under the rocks). So… don’t do this. Leave-no-trace policy when hiking, friends.

“Tell me, Princess Allura of Altea, why should we give you our energy crystals and join your coalition?”  The alien leader asked, crossing one set of arms and placing the other set on his hips. 

“We are fighting against Zarkon.”  Allura said evenly. “Zarkon has wiped out entire planets and enslaved hundreds more.  It is only a matter of time before his forces reach this end of your quadrant.” 

“Yes, but what will  _ we  _ receive, if we help you?”  The alien pressed. “What will we get, in return for joining you?”

“Uh, the chance to  _ not  _ be enslaved by the Galra?”  Lance said. “Freeing the universe?”

“Taking down Zarkon’s forces should be its own reward.”  Shiro added. 

Allura shot a reprimanding look at both of them before turning back to the alien leader with a smile.  “Joining our alliance would bring its own rewards, certainly. We would also provide you with protection, should you find your planet being attacked by the Galra in the future.”

“We will do nothing if it does not bring some benefit to us.”  The alien said bluntly. “However, protection… that is an intriguing notion.”

“Of course,” Allura nodded.  “We understand that there are risks in openly supporting Voltron and our coalition, and the increased chances of being targeted by the Galra in retaliation.  Therefore, you will receive a communicator that can be used to reach us, should you find yourselves in need of assistance.”

“What is the extent of this assistance?”  The alien asked, lifting his chin.

Allura smiled cordially, but the rest of the paladins knew that was her diplomatic, negotiating,  _ you-will-agree-to-this-or-so-help-me-sweet-Altea _ smile.  It was a dangerous smile.  “Should you require protection or assistance fighting off invading Galra forces, we will be happy to provide it.  We do ask that internal disputes be settled on your own, however, as we are quite busy freeing other planets and fighting Zarkon.”  

“Hmph.”  The alien leader did not look entirely pleased with that statement.  “Well, you know, today is our most sacred holiday, and we fear that the Galra will try to attack us while we are conducting our pilgrimage to the top of our highest mountain, as tradition requires us to lay down our arms on this day.  Like you mentioned, the Galra are closing in on this area, and they will undoubtedly attack us today. If you can provide us with protection during our time of need, then we will join your coalition.” 

“And what sort of protection would you require?”  Allura asked carefully.

The alien leader pointed to a tall mountain, its craggy peak shrouded in low-hanging clouds.  “We will make a pilgrimage up our Mt. Nasikawi, to the sacred peak, the highest on our planet.  If you and your paladins would station yourselves along the path, we can rest easy knowing that if the Galra attack us on our way, we will not be defenseless.   _ We  _ cannot use weapons on this day, but there is no rule prohibiting outsiders from bearing arms in our defense.  In return, you will have our allegiance and the energy crystals you seek.”

Allura eyed the mountain, considering it, then nodded.  “That sounds like a fair deal. We agree to your terms.”  

The two of them shook hands, then the alien leader turned back to his people.  “The Voltron paladins will protect us on our pilgrimage in exchange for our alliance.  Ready yourselves; we leave in half a varga!” 

A cheer went up among the aliens gathered, who began picking up bags and satchels, chattering excitedly among themselves.  

“The trail going up the mountain is just under sixteen-hundred meters long,” Coran told them.  “The princess and I will remain in the village and keep an eye on things here, while the rest of you will be stationed along the path at intervals of approximately three-hundred meters.”

“I call the one closest to the base.”  Hunk said, hand shooting up in the air.  He looked around at all of them as they stared at him.  “Hey, I am all for saving the universe and all that. But I’m not climbing all the way up that mountain if I don’t have to.”

“Good point,” Pidge nodded.  “I call the second post.”

“Hey, no fair!”  Lance sputtered. “We’re not--”

“I call third.”  Keith cut across him.  

Lance shot him a steely glare.  “ _ Fine _ , then I get fourth.”  

“I… guess I’ll take the highest post.”  Shiro said, a bit resignedly. He looked up at the mountain, brows pulling together uneasily.  It was a very long way up. 

“Well, now that that’s settled...”  Allura said, hands on her hips. “The village leader will be among the last group to go up the mountain, so I will try to hammer out the details of the negotiation while we wait, and make sure to keep things in our favor.  The rest of you, accompany the first group, and when you reach your posts, wait there for the remaining groups to pass by.” She frowned. “I suppose that means we’ll have to wait for them to come back down after their ceremony, as well.”

“Princess, how likely do you think it is that the Galra will attack this planet on this particular day?”  Shiro asked. 

Allura sighed.  “Not likely. But, I would rather spend a day keeping peace than engaging the Galra in a battle here.”  

“Paladins of Voltron!  Are you ready to depart?”  They turned to find a small group of about ten aliens grinning excitedly at them.  They were dressed in long, purple robes that had been hitched up to their knees to enable them to climb.  All had heavy-looking packs tied to their backs. 

“Yes, let’s go.”  Shiro nodded. “Please lead the way.”  

The paladins fell into line, spaced in between the purple-robed aliens just in case of an attack, and the group set off walking up the mountain’s sprawling base.  Shiro walked alongside the alien who had assumed position at the front of the group. The aliens had strings of bells attached to their belts that jingled with every step.  

“What’s in the bags?”  Lance asked, curious. “They look pretty heavy.”

“Inside are the tools and sacred ornaments needed for the ceremony.”  The alien in front replied. “As the novice monks, we carry them up the mountain and set them up ahead of the senior monks, who would not be able to carry such a load while climbing.”  

“What kind of ceremony is it?”  Pidge asked, already feeling out of breath.  The monks all had long, insect-like legs, and the other paladins were fairly tall, for humans, so they had little trouble keeping up.  Pidge, on the other hand, was having to practically jog to keep up. The steep incline was not doing anything to help them out, either.  

“It is very sacred.  We thank the gods by going to the highest point on our planet, to be closer to them, and complete a number of rituals to appease them for another year in hopes that they will bestow good fortune upon us.”  A monk replied. 

The group stopped for a few minutes, the paladins standing back a bit while the monks chanted some prayers and affixed a string of bells to a wooden post carved with curling alien script.  It was to keep malevolent spirits from harassing the climbers, they explained, but acknowledged that such prayers and charms would not keep the Galra at bay. 

“You know, this mountain-top is the place where the universe was born.”  The leader of the monks said as they set off again.

“Is that so,” Keith muttered, already feeling winded.  The path was definitely getting steeper.

“Oh yes.”  Another monk added, easily stepping up a tall, natural step made of boulders.  “In the beginning, there was only the gods and the formless, starry matter that would become the universe.  Then the god Aixanig thrust his divine, life-giving length into the stars--”

Pidge tripped, but managed to catch themselves before they landed on the muddy path.

“--and swung it around, until our fine planet dripped off the end, creating the world.”  The monk went on easily. “And then, he and his goddess wife descended from heaven to the highest point on our planet -- this very mountain -- where they made love thousands of times and birthed all the trees, rivers, animals, and the first people into existence.”  

“That is… quite the creation story.”  Hunk blinked, taken aback.

“‘Story’... ha ha,” one of the monks chuckled.  “It is a  _ fact _ , dear paladin.”  

Lance snorted.  “How come whenever I do that, a planet never comes out of  _ my _ \--”  

“Lance.”  Shiro cut him off with a warning tone.

The monks continued to chatter lightly among themselves, but the paladins all grew quieter as they climbed higher and higher.  They were panting hard from exertion already, and did not have the breath to spare to even speak much to each other or their companions.  The path grew steeper, and became very muddy. The path was the only clear place free of the thick vegetation that covered the mountainside.  There were a sort of steps-- no,  _ footsteps _ cut into the mud of the steep hill, a remnant of thousands of feet trampling over the exact same spots for years, even generations.  

After two more bell-tying rituals and chants, the leader of the monks announced that the first watch-post would be coming up, just around the bend.  

“Oh, thank goodness,” Hunk sighed, then immediately regretted allowing that much air to leave his lungs.  Most of the paladins were tired already, and they were all envious of Hunk for getting to stop while they went on.  

The leader of the monks jogged up ahead -- one set of arms holding the straps of his bag, the other set pumping at his sides -- and looked around the bend of the path.  “Come now, it’s right up here!” 

The paladins pushed on, legs burning, and came around the corner to find a little brook crossing the path underneath a wooden bridge.  There were no sides to it, and the ravine was only a meter or two deep, but the wood was damp and old and looked ready to snap in half at any moment.  

“Wait, the watchpost is here?”  Hunk checked. “Like right here?”

“Right there, across the bridge.”  The monk pointed to another carved post stuck in the ground on the other side of the bridge.  

“Okay, but right here where we’re standing is close enough.”  Hunk said. “I’ll keep watch from here.” 

“No, you must cross the bridge.”  The monk frowned at him. “Crossing over running water is an act of purification.”  

Hunk looked helplessly at Shiro over the monk’s shoulder.  Shiro just held up his hands in a shrug. Hunk looked back at the bridge.  “That thing doesn’t look like it’ll hold Pidge, let alone all of us.”

The head monk made an impatient sound.  “By Aixanig’s sword…” he turned and strode across the bridge, stepping over the patches where the wood had broken away in the past.  On the other side, he put one set of hands on his hips and gestured pointedly at the bridge with the other. “See? It is perfectly safe.”

“I vote Pidge tries it first.”  Lance said, pushing the green paladin forward.  

“Hey!”  Pidge glared at him and pushed him back.  Three other monks rolled their eyes and walked across the bridge with ease.  Pidge let out a huff. “Alright, fine.” The green paladin gingerly stepped out onto the waterlogged wooden bridge, testing its weight for a moment before leaping across it in two bounds.  “Oh, look, it is fine.” 

The rest of them crossed, moving cautiously over the slick boards, and eventually they were all on the other side.  By the time they all got across, the monks were halfway done with their ritual. When they were finished, they reminded Hunk to keep the rest of the pilgrims safe, and then left, Pidge shooting him a murderous look as sat down on a large boulder and waved them off.  

“Phew,” Hunk sighed.  “Now I can catch my breath.”  

~~~~~

“Hunk is an evil genius.”  Lance muttered under his breath as they continued climbing.

“Explain.”  Pidge grumbled, hauling themselves up another steep set of mud steps.  

“Too tired.”  Lance replied, sighing.  By this point, the paladins had fallen to the back of the group while the monks forged on ahead.  

“Guys, hurry up, we have to keep pace with them.”  Shiro warned, but even his legs were aching. It seemed fighting worked out different muscle groups than hiking up a mountain did.  

The path narrowed, forcing the group into a single-file line, and only seemed to get muddier as they went on.  At some points, a shallow river wound alongside the path, and even  _ across  _ the path at other times.  Luckily, though, there were no more precarious bridges.  Pidge wasn’t sure which was worse: inching across tiny bridges that looked a few pounds away from falling apart, or soaking their shoes tramping through the small rivers that crossed the path.  By the time the group made it to the second watch-post, all of their legs were aching, and they envied Pidge for getting to take a seat on a large tree-trunk while the monks -- too full of energy, given the altitude -- spurred the rest of them on ahead.  

Eventually, the thick forest of trees began to give way to low-growing, reedy-looking plants as they reached the treeline.  While the monks tied bells to another stake and completed their chanting, Shiro tapped Lance and Keith’s shoulders, prompting them to look up from where they were doubled over catching their breath.  “Look,” he pointed behind them.

Without the tall trees, they could see for the first time just how high up they were.  The green fields and dark forests were stretched out below them like a patchwork quilt, the village nestled at the wide base of the mountain. 

“Wow…” Keith whispered, sounding breathless.  He wasn’t even sure if the view was taking his breath away, or the climbing.

“Paladins!  Let’s move on!”  One of the monks called, waving.

Lance groaned.  “I am going to throw myself off this mountain.”  He muttered darkly.

“Have fun,” Keith snorted, waving them off as he found a boulder to sit on.  Lance flipped him off while the monks weren’t looking. Shiro shot him a reprimanding look and swatted his hand down with a hissed warning not to be rude.  

Soon, the terrain began to change, the groves of bamboo-like bushes disappearing as the path grew steeper and steeper.  They were well above the treeline, with the only plants growing being bright blue alien grass and small patches of flowers.  The hiking became more along the lines of bouldering as they hauled themselves up large rocks, the path sometimes going nearly vertical.  They weren’t even sure where the path was, honestly, and were just following the monks, who were finally beginning to show some signs of fatigue themselves.  They were quieter now, focusing on climbing, but their pace didn’t slow. The insect-like monks led them over babbling mountain streams and up small waterfalls, sometimes even using the stream itself as the path.  

“Why do we keep crossing this little river?”  Lance asked, huffing and puffing as he pulled himself up yet another rock.  “Can’t we just stay on one side?”

One of the monks regarded him flatly.  “Crossing running water is an act of purification.”  He repeated, as if it were obvious.

“Okay, but I’m just saying, from a survival standpoint, wet rocks don’t make for the best climbing.”  Lance groused.

“Lance.”  Shiro spoke up behind him.

“No, I’m just saying, it’s something to consider--”

“Lance, that rock is unstable.”  Shiro cut him off just as the rock Lance hand grabbed gave way under his hand.  The dislodged stones crumbled away, one of them nearly hitting Shiro as they bounced and rolled down the steep path.  

“Is there a problem back there?”  One of the monks called from further up ahead.  

“No,” Shiro called back.  He met Lance’s eyes. “Keep climbing.  Be careful of your hand and foot holds.”  

Lance nodded soberly and gripped a solid-looking hunk of a boulder, testing it before hauling himself up.  

As they climbed higher, the boulders became larger and more frequent, and the grass became scrubbier.  It was beginning to get cooler, as the air grew thinner. Lance collapsed onto a fairly flat rock next to yet another small, trickling waterfall.  The monks finished their chanting and set off, looking excited. “Nearly there! The peak is just up that way!”

Lance noticed a flash of emotion cross Shiro’s face as he looked up at the craggy peak several hundred meters above them.  He tapped his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute. “Good luck.” 

Shiro nodded, jaw set tight.  “I’ll need it.”

~~~~~

Shiro was a warrior.  He had years of military training.  He had survived being a gladiator and had even made a name for himself, deplorable as he had found it.  He had fought countless battles with his friends at his side, made tough strategic calls, and pushed himself to his limits many times.  He was a defender of the universe. 

None of that prepared him for climbing up an alien mountain with several spritely, insect-like aliens.  

Not long after they left Lance at his watch-post, the scrubby grasses disappeared and they were left with just boulders.  There wasn’t even a discernible path anymore, just a thin rope strung between rocks that served more to show the way than it was any sort of support.  The temperature had dropped drastically, the wind whipping across Shiro’s face and chilling his fingers as they gripped the rocks. He was pretty sure they were actually inside a cloud, given the intense moisture in the air and the fact that he couldn’t see more than a few meters in front of him.  His lungs burned, his shoulders ached from hauling himself up the boulders, his legs felt like lead. By the time they came upon the tiny caldera pond where the last watch-post was, Shiro was about ready to drop to his knees in prayer or exhaustion (possibly both). He managed to stay on his feet, looking out at their surroundings while the monks did their chanting.  There were no signs of animal or plant life this high up, aside from some patches of turquoise and purple lichen on the stones. There was a small bench next to the path, made of slabs of cinderblock (how had they gotten that  _ up here _ ?), the signpost where the monks were tying their bells, the small caldera lake that was probably only about fifteen feet across, rocks, rocks, and more rocks, and nothing else.  

“The peak is just up there.”  One of the monks told him, pointing.  He could barely even see it through the clouds.  “Will you join us in the ceremony, or wait here?”  

Shiro pretended to consider it.  “I think we should remain spaced evenly at our posts.  I’ll wait here, and signal me if there is any trouble while you are up there.”  How he would get up there in the event of an emergency, he had no idea. It certainly wouldn’t be timely.  He wondered if he could use the jetpack on his paladin armor.

After the monks were on their way up the steep mass of boulders to get to the peak, Shiro finally let himself sit down on the bench.  He shivered, tucking his arms around his middle to keep warm. The village below had been hot and humid, and while the air was perhaps even more humid up here (did it still count as humidity if you were just inside a cloud?), it was much, much colder.  He wondered how long it would take to complete this ceremony and get back down. 

It didn’t take long for another group of the aliens to come around the bend.  From his high vantage point, Shiro spotted them long before he suspected they could see him, so he got to his feet --legs aching in protest -- as they were making their way around the caldera lake and climbing the steep incline up to his post.  He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be sitting down on the job or not. Schooling his expression into his defending-the-universe face (a cross between a customer-service smile and a military I-know-what-I’m-doing aura), he greeted the approaching aliens with a smile and offered some of the older ones a hand to help them up.  Even they were remarkably spritely for their age, which bruised his confidence just a little bit, as he felt like he was dying while they merely paused for a sip of water before taking off again with gusto. The group had barely disappeared into the clouds above when another group was rounding the bend and climbing closer.

At least an hour passed like that; welcoming groups of about eight to ten aliens as they made their way up the mountain to the peak.  Eventually, the cloud that had been hanging around the mountain dispersed, and the view was astonishing. From this high up, he couldn’t even see the village where they had come from.  The alien vegetation made a patchwork quilt of blues, dark greens, and golden yellows, stretching out as far as the eye could see and broken only by a thin silver ribbon of a river than Shiro remembered was much wider than it looked from here.  He looked up towards the craggy peak, the dew-slicked rocks shining in the sunlight. A gong sounded several times, followed by more chanting, then silence. Soon, another cloud settled over the mountain, obscuring the view and drenching everything in wet cold again.  Shiro shifted on the bench, rubbing his arms for warmth. Once more, he wondered just how long this ceremony was going to take, and he was regretting not asking anyone. To pass the time, he picked up a few small, loose rocks and stacked them on top of each other, feeling bored.  The sight reminded him a bit of the rock stacks he had sometimes found in the desert surrounding the Galaxy Garrison, but much more cold, wet, and bleak, and gray instead of reddish-orange. 

He managed to make five short little towers, each one made of six or seven stones, by the time he spotted a group of monks leading the descent from the peak.  He watched them carefully pick their way down the boulders again, some of them using long sticks and staffs for balance. He stood up again as they approached, wanting to appear professional.  A few kindly-looking older aliens patted his shoulder and gave him a “Aixanig bless you, paladin” as they passed, but most of them looked about as tired as he felt and walked right past him, eager to get back down to the village before nightfall.  While they had come up in staggered groups, it seemed few wanted to wait around all day on the frigid mountaintop, and they all descended in a very long, single-file line. The procession was followed by the same group of monks that had been in the first group, with their heavy packs on their back.

“Thank you for waiting for us, and keeping an eye out for any Galra attacks.”  The leader of the group told Shiro. “It seems Aixanig’s almighty sword has protected the planet which it created.”  

Shiro, remembering the creation story, strongly resisted the urge to arch an eyebrow at that.  “We’re happy to help.” Happy, sure. Mostly cold and tired, though. 

The monk beamed, clapping him on the shoulder.  “And it seems you were able to amuse yourself while you waited.”  He said, eyeing the little stacks of rocks on the bench. 

“Oh, that’s nothing, sorry about that,” Shiro quickly swept the pebbles away.  A few rolled and bounced down the side of the mountain. He wondered just how far down they would fall before they stopped.  

“Well, we don’t want to fall too far behind!”  The monk said cheerily, setting off down the path.  “Onward!” 

Shiro took a deep breath of thin air and followed him, watching his footing carefully and resolutely not looking at the enormous drop to either side of the path.  The way back down proved to be nearly as difficult as the way up had been, if only in a different way. His shoulders ached from hunching over to keep a hand on the boulders for balance, rather than from hauling himself up them as he had before.  The muscles in his legs burned from taking such steep steps down and landing the whole of his weight on his ankles, rather than his thighs pushing his entire weight up a nearly vertical slope. His fingers felt like icicles, and he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach every time he looked at just how far up they were.

By the time they made it back to where Lance was waiting, Shiro was just relieved to see grass and short, scrubby vegetation again.  The whole mountaintop had been nothing but gray and grayish-orange boulders. Lance didn’t seem to be as concerned with professionalism as Shiro had been, as he was sitting on a large, relatively flat rock and chucking small pebbles down the mountainside, thankfully away from the path.  He looked up when they approached.

“Hey, you guys are the last ones?”  

“Yep.”  Shiro said, pausing to cup his hand in the small mountain stream and drink from it.  The water was clear and frigid, and felt like heaven on his dry throat. “Come on, we don’t want to lose them.”  He said, straightening up. 

Lance nodded and picked up the little pile of pebbles next to him, tossing them into the ravine as one group that clattered and pinged off the boulders as they fell.  

If they thought hauling themselves up the boulders had been bad enough, that was nothing compared to having to carefully scoot down the boulders while trying very hard not to look at how high up they were.  Water trickled over the rocks in the small stream that wound alongside the path -- if the narrow ridge could even be called a ‘path’ -- and they eventually just gave up on trying to keep their feet dry while crossing it time and time again.  Soon, the low, scrubby brush grew to small trees, barren-looking trees and reed-like plants, and the path was made more of dirt than it was rocks. Never had they been so happy to see plain old brown dirt. 

The monks had previously ushered Shiro to the front of their group, just in case the Galra planned a surprise attack on them during the descent, so Shiro was the first to come around the corner and spot the red paladin.  When they came upon Keith, they found him sitting on a large boulder next to a relatively-flat section of the path, a few small stacks of pebbles resting beside him. He was leaning back on his hands with a soft smile on his face as he looked out at the view, looking peaceful.  The sun was lower in the sky; not quite setting, yet, but getting close, and the landscape below was washed in gold light. He looked up when he heard them approaching. 

“Oh, hey.”  He greeted, getting to his feet.  “Last group? I’m thinking we need to get down to at least Hunk’s post before nightfall.”  

“Agreed.”  Shiro nodded.  He didn’t want to be up here on this mountain come night.  

“You look rested.”  Lance said icily, crossing his arms.  

“I am.  It was a good break after the climbing.”  Keith stretched his arms above his head. “And this place is nice and quiet.”

“Good for you.”  Lance groused. “So glad you didn’t have to go all the way up to the freezing top.”

“Neither did you.”  Keith pointed out. “The only person who gets to complain is Shiro.”

“But Shiro never complains about anything!”  Lance protested, gesturing wildly in the black paladin’s direction.  

“Guys, come on, we’re losing daylight here…” Shiro said, glancing toward the low-hanging sun.  It looked to be maybe three o’clock, but they were still a very long way up the mountain and he wasn’t eager to pick his way down the steep path in the dark.  

“Coming, one second…” Keith quickly gathered up all the little pebbles he had stacked up and spread them out over the ground amongst the rest of the small rocks alongside the path.  Dusting his hands off, he straightened up. “What?”

“You’re so weird.”  Lance shook his head.

“Sorry for trying to leave nature as I found it.”  Keith rolled his eyes. “Just get moving. The monks have already left.”  

As they went further down the mountain, the trees once more grew taller and wider, thickening into forests.  The air was much warmer down here, easing some of the stiffness that had set into Shiro’s bones from the frigid mountaintop, especially around his Galra-tech arm.  The path became more muddy as well, and they had to be careful not to slip and crash into everyone in front of them on the slick ground. By the time they came across Pidge’s post, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, towards the mountains in the distance.  

“Pidge…?”  Shiro called, looking around for the green paladin.  “Are you--? Woah…” He stared up at the spectacle in front of him.  Seven large rocks, each looking about as heavy as a bowling ball or two, had been balanced on top of each other to create a tall tower.  The surprising thing about it, though, was that the smallest rocks were on the bottom, and the largest were balanced precariously on top, sometimes only by a narrow point or corner of the stone.

“Hey guys!”  Pidge’s voice called from somewhere above them, and they looked up to find the green paladin up in the branches of a tree, holding a large, roughly rectangular rock.  “Look what I made!”

“That’s… really impressive, Pidge.”  Shiro said, although he couldn’t help but keep his distance from the structure.  It  _ looked  _ steady enough, but logically it  _ shouldn’t  _ be…

“How the quiznak did you get up there?”  Lance asked. 

“I’m short, short people climb stuff,” Pidge waved a hand casually.  “We’ve been over this.” 

“How are you going to get down?”  Keith asked.

“Easy,” Pidge hefted the rock.  “Can someone catch this for me?”  They were met with silence from the others.  “Alright, fine, gotta do everything myself…”

“You are not dropping that rock on any of us, you  _ Home-Alone _ -esque gremlin.”  Lance crossed his arms.

Pidge snorted and tucked the rock under their arm, grabbing the top rock on their balanced tower with their other hand.  Swinging their legs, they hopped off the branch and ignited their jetpack to slow their descent to the ground, where they set the two rocks down.  Bunching up their legs, they jumped and let the jetpack carry them up again, grabbing another two rocks as they fell in the same manner, then repeated until the structure was dismantled.  

“That was fun,” Pidge said cheerily, dusting their hands off.  “Shall we go?” 

“Sometimes you scare me, you know that?”  Lance muttered, following the green paladin down the path.  

“A force to be reckoned with, definitely.”  Keith nodded in agreement. 

The sun was sinking closer and closer to the mountain range in the distance by the time they made it down to Hunk at the first watch-post.  Golden-red light filtered in through the branches of the trees overhead, the forest thick around them. Hunk, it seemed, had gathered a few dozen flat, hand-sized slabs of rock from the river and had carefully worked them into a circle, the arch supporting itself through careful balance  

“Oh good, you guys are back.”  Hunk said, spotting them through the center of his circle.  “I was starting to get worried. I don’t want to find out what kinds of alien-animals live up here that come out at night.”  

“Agreed.  It would be safest to return to the village by the time nightfall hits.”  Shiro said. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.  Oh, I guess I should put these back…” Hunk considered the rock circle in front of him, humming thoughtfully, then pried a wedge-shaped rock from the center of the arch out of its place with his fingers.  Immediately, the entire structure collapsed with a thunderous crash. “Whoops, sorry about that.” Hunk apologized, pushing the pile of stones back towards the river and spreading them out a bit, the rocks clattering noisily against each other.  

They set off down the muddy path once more.  The downward incline was steep, but after literally pulling themselves up boulders near the peak, this didn’t seem so bad.  Eventually, the path flattened out a bit as they drew closer to the village. Night fell quickly, but now the path was lit with stone lanterns on either side of the narrow road, and the paladins would have cheered with relief as the thatched roofs of the wooden houses came into view, had they not been so exhausted.

“Paladins!”  Allura called out, waving to them cheerfully.  “Good news! The Voltron Coalition has another member among our ranks!”  

“A vision was bestowed upon me on the mountaintop!”  The alien’s leader explained beside the Princess. “Our highest god, Aixanig himself, raised his sword and declared we must take a stand against the Galra empire.”

“His sword-sword or his  _ other  _ sword?” Lance muttered.  Shiro elbowed him sharply.  Coran cupped a hand beside his mustache and mouthed the word  _ “metaphor” _ silently from behind the alien leader.  

“To demonstrate our newfound alliance, we have chosen to perform a ceremony from your people.”  The alien leader beckoned them to follow, and led them around a corner towards what looked like the center of the town.  

“What kind of ceremony of ours could they possibly be--   _ Woah _ .”  Hunk nearly stopped walking at the sight, as stunned as the rest of the paladins.  

Set up in a circle in the clearing stood several stacks of smooth, oblong stones piled on top of each other.  

“What kind of Earth ceremony is this supposed to be?”  Pidge whispered to Shiro, who offered a minimal shrug, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Paladins of Voltron!”  The alien leader lifted his hands.  “Today we join together as allies in the fight against Zarkon!  Long live Voltron!” 

“Long live Voltron!”  The other aliens cried out.  Then, before anyone could point out that the giant robot Voltron wasn’t exactly ‘alive’ to begin with, the aliens lifted their hands and shoved at the stacks of rocks to send them toppling to the ground with a thunderous clatter.

The paladins and Alteans stared at their hosts with wide eyes, completely shocked.  Meanwhile, the aliens stared right back at them expectantly, as if waiting for a response.  

Allura was the first to recover.  “That was… a lovely ceremony. May I inquire as to the meaning of such a ritual?”  

“We know not.”  The alien leader said.  “Your Earthlings should be able to tell you, Princess of Altea.”

“We… what?”  Lance blinked.  

“That’s not something from Earth.”  Shiro said slowly. “At least, not that I know of.”  

“Is this not your mountain-climbing ritual?”  The alien asked. When they all shook their heads, he looked indignant.  “But you all did it!”

“Did what?”

“Stacked the rocks!”  The alien leader gestured to the fallen stones empathically.  “And then scattered them!” 

The paladins let out a collective “ohhh…”  

“That’s not a ceremony.”  Pidge adjusted their glasses.  “It’s just something people do.  We didn’t plan it.” 

“It’s weird that people from different backgrounds have a habit of stacking rocks when we find them.”  Hunk said. 

“Must be a human thing.”  Keith shrugged. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, huffing and puffing: “You know what’s… really neat… about humans? ...Around the world… and across cultures… we all… stack… rocks… holy grilled cheesus _where is the peak???_ ”  
> My friend: “Uh... Do you need to take another break?”  
> Me, winded and pointing wildly at a pile of rocks: “H… HUMANS.”


	26. ANNOUNCEMENT

So, it’s been a very long time since I’ve updated this story.  More than a year, in fact. And there’s a reason for that. But first, I want to thank everyone who has read this story, left kudos and comments, and shown such warm support for it.  I appreciate it so much, even though I know I’m terrible about replying to comments on this fic in particular. To be honest, the continued enthusiasm sort of confuses me, because it is the only one of my older fics that consistently receives attention still, even though it’s been so long since being posted/updated, and even though the characterization is now quite different from canon.  I have to admit, I’m a little bemused whenever I see new comments on this old fic in my inbox (I actually get a bit overwhelmed, because there are SO many comments and SO many chapters, and a lot of times I don’t remember where the events are that certain comments are referencing, so I’ve been cowardly and just haven’t answered, and I’m very sorry for that). 

I wrote this back during seasons 1 and 2.  By the time season 3 rolled around, my enthusiasm to continue this particular fic was waning.  That is because over time, everything -- the plot of the show, information we had on certain characters, my personal view of certain characters and dynamics, even my writing style -- changed a lot.  And that’s okay, that’s natural to experience as time and a TV series progresses. But it made a lot of the characterization in this fic obsolete, or in certain cases, my views changed enough that working on this particular AU was a struggle, and just not fun anymore.  To give an example that is very, glaringly obvious: Pidge’s pronouns -- back when season 1 was all we had to work with, non-binary Pidge was a popular headcanon, and tbh is still an idea that is close to my heart as a non-binary guy myself. But as the show progressed and it became clear that Pidge is a girl (who I still love, by the way), continuing a fic with they/them pronouns started to become hard to work around.  And a lot of the characterizations/dynamics that were popular/present in the earlier seasons have changed as the plot has progressed, to the point where I feel that the characterizations here are out of character with the ones that I’ve grown to love in canon. 

This fic was fun when I started it, it really was, but I’ve moved past it.  I’m very glad (albeit a little confused) that people continue to like it so much, so I would feel bad if I just deleted the fic.  That’s why I have decided to orphan it, so people can still read it and enjoy it if this is something they’re into. It’s just not something  _ I’m _ into anymore.  I’m still writing VLD content, I’m still into VLD on tumblr, I’m just very, very done with this particular fic, although I am  _ very _ happy that people enjoyed it.  My goal with writing is to bring some happiness to readers, and I’m glad I was able to accomplish that.  But unfortunately, over time, that came at the expense of my own happiness and comfort, so it’s time to cut ties.  I’m a bit perplexed as to why attention to this fic causes me such stress, but it does, and there have been many times where I just wanted to delete it, and the only thing stopping me was remembering that people, for some reason, do still enjoy it.  So orphaning the work is a good compromise, I think. Given that there isn’t an overarching storyline/plot to this fic and that it is just a collection of loosely-related drabbles, I feel okay with marking it as complete and letting it go. 

If you left a comment and I didn’t reply, I’m very sorry; I don’t have a decent excuse, other than that the attention to a fic I no longer want to deal with made me feel awkward, uncomfortable, and overwhelmed (and I acknowledge that that is a very shitty excuse, but it is the truth, and you guys deserve the truth at the very least).  If you left a suggestion/request for this series and I didn’t get to it, I am sorry; you guys all had great ideas and I encourage you to write them if you wish, but I ran out of steam as far as this fic goes, and I apologize for that.

I realize I don’t have any right to ask people to continue to read my work after this, but in case you do want to find me, I’m still on AO3 as WildWolf25 and bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies, and am still on tumblr at gold-leeaf (for gen VLD content) and bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies (for mostly-VLD, NSFW content,  **please be 18 years or older before following** ).  I do still love VLD, but I think we can agree that the show has changed a lot since the first and second season, as have the fanworks, theories, and -- given that we are all indeed human -- many fans’ opinions and views.  And that change isn’t bad! It’s just different. I still love the exploration of situations that might arise from humans and aliens interacting, but I think it’s time to bring this particular work to a close. Again, thank you all for your support. 


End file.
